Soundtrack
by pinkpower
Summary: A collection of stories set to some music. BrxBl ficlets. Rated M for inevitable sour citrus.
1. Let Me Riddle You a Diddy

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me and it never has!**

 **Author's Note: While I am still in the middle of writing a full-blown novel, I find myself missing Brick and Blossom, so I decided to quench my thirst for them here and there by starting an on-going series of oneshots, instead of posting them separately. I can promise you right now that there will at least two written out, and ready to be typed, this being the first. The next one will be a lemon, woot woot! But yeah, so I can't promise you more than two mini-stories for right now. We'll see if I feel like writing more in the future.**

 **Author's Note #2: Shout out to cupcake28 for suggesting the idea!**

 **Author's Note #3: 'I'm Gonna Love You' by Jennifer Love Hewitt.**

* * *

 _It didn't start this way_

 _It happened just one day_

 _You smiled at me_

 _And I saw you differently_

To most of the world, Brick Jojo was a grade A rebel-rouser, the leader of the Rowdyruff Boys, the world class ladies man, the school screw up who frequently bribed Mister Jefferson with ham and cheese sandwiches to get out of detention early—the classic, untamable, unattainable bad boy. He was the sort of guy everyone counted on to use his heat vision on flammable chemicals in the science lab in the middle of a mundane day, putting forth the effort to add a little spice to routine life. It was simply in Brick's nature to cause all sorts of mischief, like when he would mouth off to a boring teacher, or sneak into the teachers' lounge to put a stink bomb in the vending machine.

Yeah. There was no questioning it. Brick was a troublemaker.

But there was a gentler side to Brick most people didn't get to see, least of Blossom Utonium, but she stumbled upon Brick's human side entirely by accident.

On weekends, Blossom enjoyed taking mid-morning walks through Townsville Park, just some exercise to balance out Friday nights' regularly scheduled four-cheese, pretzel crust pizza with everything on it, with four liters of soda. Monster fighting kept her adequately in shape, but the extra exercise couldn't hurt. Blossom enjoyed the freshness of the day, when there was just enough wind to carry her thick, ponytailed tresses of copper while there was just enough heat to tenderly touch the tops of her shoulders.

Yep. Just a typical Saturday morning.

All of a sudden, the pink Powerpuff Girl's enhanced, super-powered ears caught the strong burst of saddened wailing from the opposite side of the park. In the next second, Blossom located the source of the distressed crying, leaving a pink flash of light behind her. But Blossom stopped dead in her tracks the moment she saw Brick, her Rowdyruff counterpart, kneeling in front of a weeping, little girl, who kept pointing to a particular part of the tall tree adjacent to them.

"Hey, hey, calm down," the Rowdyruff Boys leader said in attempt to get the tiny girl to quiet down. He gently dragged the girl's fisted hands away from her tear-streaked eyes, just in case she rubbed them too hard. "What's wrong?"

"My-my-my-my..." The young girl trailed off in frustration, unable to form more than a single syllable without violently hiccuping.

"Can you count all the way to thirty?" Brick inquired patiently, not a single hint of his characteristic agitation anywhere on his handsome face...

"Ye-" _hic_ "Yes," the little girl answered.

"Good. I want you to hold your breath and count to thirty in your head, okay?" he instructed, exaggeratedly puffing his cheeks to mimic the face of someone holding in their breath, which made the little girl giggle and comply with his request.

Baffled by what she was witnessing—Brick, the infamous bad boy being a decent human being for a change—Blossom stood frozen in place, mere feet behind him. She must have entered a bizarre, parallel universe, because there was no way that guy and Brick could be the same person, but...

There was a soft pounding in Blossom's eardrums, the sound like a clock's secondhand ticking back and forth. When she felt her chest grow tighter, she realized the unfamiliar noise was her heartbeat galloping like Seabiscuit.

Blossom knew that she should have left since Brick had everything under control, but her strawberry ice cream-pink irises could not redirect their enamored fixation, nor could she force her feet to move. Her hands, however, reached into her back pocket, grabbed her smart phone, and started recording the rest of this weird, oddly wonderful moment.

"Puuuuah!" the little girl exhaled after a full thirty seconds of holding her breath. "Hey! My hiccups are gone!"

"Alright! Good job, squirt!" A wide, proud grin spread across Brick's face like butter, easily one of the most inspiring sights his Powerpuff Girl enemy ever beheld. He lifted up his hand, exchanging a high-five with his new, miniature fangirl. "Now, can you tell me what's wrong?"

"My cat is stuck in that tree. I don't know if she can get down all by herself and I'm too small to get her," the little girl replied, her bottom lip jutting out to give Brick the most agonized, pathetic pout.

"Oh... Psh! Piece of cake," Brick replied, standing upright as he folded his arms confidently over his chest. "I can get your cat, chibi-human. Wanna help?"

"Yeah!" she exclaimed with several elated nods.

The Rowdryruff Boy scooped the young girl, barely older than a toddler, off the ground and carried her protectively in his arms, careful not to let her fall. Slowly, Brick began to levitate, gently flying to the branch where a white-furred cat mewed in distress. The little girl beamed ecstatically at her furry friend and cautiously plucked it from the tree, cradling her cat like a newborn baby. Brick lowered them back to the ground, setting down the tiny girl and her pet on the sidewalk.

"Safe and sound?" Brick asked, scratching the cat's head only to receive an ungrateful hiss.

"Thank you!" And with that quick, appreciative exclamation, the girl and her cat ran off, probably off to find more trouble to get themselves into, reunited at last.

"Kids..." he muttered with a roll of his eyes, shaking his head back and forth.

Blossom's heartbeat stammered when Brick started turning around, facing in her direction. Caught in an awkward staring contest, Blossom coughed. "Uh... Hi!"

"How long have you been standing there?" Brick questioned, his tone colored with curiosity and embarrassment.

"Long enough," she answered with a nonchalant shrug. "It was very sweet of you to help that little girl get her cat, Brick."

"It was no big deal," the school bully grumbled, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. "Just some stupid kid and her dumb cat."

"Nevertheless," she began with a slight nod, "I'm impressed." As well as pleasantly surprised.

"Good for you," Brick retorted, feigning disinterest.

"I enjoy seeing a gentler side of you." Blossom slightly tilted her head to the side as a sugary-sweet smile sat upon her scarlet mouth, her expression delighted and warm. "I wish you could be that way all the time."

"Yeah, well, that's not gonna-" Brick stopped mid-sentence and gestured to the rectangular device in his female counterpart's hands. "Wait. You actually recorded that? What are you, the freakin' paparazzi!" he shouted, his world-famous temper shining through as he marched straight toward her.

"Awww, come on, you big party pooper! It's time to show the fans at home you've finally conquered your phobia of girl cooties!" Blossom giggled, extending an arm behind her to keep her cellphone out of Brick's reach.

"Gimme the phone, Powderpuff!" Brick demanded.

"No way! This is going to get way more hits than any of those goat remixes!" Blossom exclaimed, trying to push him away.

"I'll give Boomer a nosebleed just for you if you delete that damn video!" Brick pleaded desperately between clenched teeth, repeatedly reaching for the elusive cellphone. "C'mon, just give-"

In the next instance, Blossom wasn't sure what made her do it, but she instantaneously decided that she needed to do something a smidgen drastic in order to get Brick to let up, so slenderly puckered her cerise lips, and gave him a small, fleeting kiss on the cheek—an action she had not repeated since they were kindergartners. She pressed her petal-soft mouth to Brick's cheek for no longer than a nanosecond, the girlie tactic effective. He retreated immediately, touching two fingertips to the spot where the sensation of mint-fresh breath lingered upon his skin. There was a stunned expression draped across his face, both of his auburn eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, though he didn't seem repulsed, as a fiery red blush managed to stain both cheeks.

"Whatever!" Brick spat in defeat. "Make me a viral sensation for all I care." In the blink of an eye, he took to the skies like a jet.

Blossom never shared the video with anyone else, putting the three minutes of footage in a password protected file on her phone. By the end of that weekend, she had watched it more than a thousand times for some reason, spellbound by the mysterious decency Brick displayed to a crying girl. She observed the dashing smile written on his face, the brilliancy of the feature giving her stomach butterflies, while her heart raced in reaction to his gracious chivalry.

To the rest of the world, Brick was a typical, teenage delinquent.

To Blossom, she was someone she could picture herself falling in love with.


	2. It's Just an Itty Bitty

**Disclaimer: The Powerpuff Girls aren't my property!**

 **Author's Note: Naughty language and nakedness ahead. You've been warned. The featured song today is Laid by Matt Nathanson.**

* * *

 _His bed is on fire_

 _With passionate love_

For the past half hour, Brick had been playing with his girlfriend's hair as she diligently studied for her biology exam tomorrow afternoon. He was hypnotized by the autumn-red color with the softest, slightest amount of golden highlights subtly mixed among Blossom's lengthy tresses. His longer fingers combed through her thick locks, reveling in the silken texture—repeatedly digging his fingers over her scalp to run his digits all the way down, to where the coppery edges curled.

Oh, and the smell that resonated from Blossom's hair was heavenly, a combination of vanilla and warm apple cinnamon, the delicious fragrance like Christmas morning at a coffee shop.

Obviously, Blossom took pride in her hair, maintaining this feature with the utmost precision and delicacy, which Brick was grateful for. Although, he could openly admit the pink Powerpuff Girl's hair wasn't his physical attribute of hers, it was at least somewhere in his Top Five.

Sitting next to Blossom at her ask, Brick gently dipped his face into the side of her neck, snuggling into the soft curtain of her hair like a playful kitten, as his lips sought the sensitive spot on her neck, the spot that drove his favorite girl crazy.

"Pretty flower," Brick murmured. Tenderly, he placed a kiss upon the pulsating erogenous zone, lightly suckling until the skin went from fair to rosy pink.

A vehement shudder rattled throughout her body. "Uugnh," Blossom mewled under her breath, and then she shook her head. "Br-Brick, honey... You have to stop that."

"Why?" he inquired incorrigibly, tuning in to listen to the hummingbird pitter-patt of his girlfriend's heartbeat, the pace quickened in reaction to his feathery kisses.

"Because..." Momentarily, the smartypants Powerpuff lost her train of thought, and then swiftly found it again. "I have to study for my science exam that I have tomorrow," she said, scooting her chair away from his.

"Oh," Brick muttered, the right corner of his mouth raising in a devil-may-care smirk. "I'm sorry, Blossom. Am I distracting you from your studies?"

Ferociously blushing, Blossom reluctantly glanced at Brick, trying not to display too much excitement by the nefarious venom seeping through his husky tone. "Tremendously," she answered, feeling her pupils begin to dilate, as Brick's sin-red irises gazed at her.

Brick stood up from his seat, side-stepping behind Blossom. His menacing shadow cast over her as he leaned over, gingerly slipping his hands over her magnificent breasts. "You've been studying non-stop for the past two hours. I think you can afford a study break."

"Brick, my family is downstairs-"

Instantly, Blossom was silenced when her wicked boyfriend lightly pinched her taut nipples through her thin t-shirt. He tugged upon either pebble as if they were puppet strings, earning an assortment of musical gasps, as Blossom's legs instinctively parted. His hands groped at her breasts for awhile longer—cupping each heavy globe with an enamored, rough touch—before his fingertips roamed down her body, tip-toeing all the way to her womanly center, as he leaned over more and more. One hand wandered inside of Blossom's cotton panties to fiddle with the elongated nub of her pussy, carefully massaging the bundle of nerves by rubbing rhythmic circles around the tip, while his opposite hand swiftly spun her chair around.

Expelling a soft squeak, Blossom whimpered—not in complaint, but in plea. "Brick," she mewled, weaving her fingers through his ginger hair.

"Yes?" he prompted teasingly, somehow also wolfish as he slowly slid Blossom's pink and white boyshorts down her long, peach-colored legs, marveling how the fabric had a round, damp spot. Jesus Christ. "Did you have something to say?"

The candy cane-red blush had spread down the center of the head Powerpuff Girl's body, starting from her supple cheeks, trailing between her endowed tits, and all the way to her vulva—like a subtle-colored road directing Brick to her clit. She was so beautiful like this, with her shirt folding above her chest, so that her tits were exposed, while her panties now rested flat on the floor.

So beautiful.

So sexy.

So _his_.

Shaking her head, Blossom tucked a loose strand of her auburn hair behind the shell of her ear. "No..."

"Then, why did you say my name?"

"It was an involuntary response."

"To what?"

"To you."

"Oh, you mean like when I do this..." Trailing off, the leader of the Rowdyruff Boys nestled his head between Blossom's parted legs, reacquainting himself with the trimmed, chestnut line of her pussy, as he ghosted his tongue over her needy clitoris—barely touching the glistening bud. "Well, Blossom?"

"Uungh..." Spreading her legs even farther apart, Blossom extended a leg to rest atop the surface of the desk.

Fuck. Her ass must've looked fan-friggin'-tastic, if only he could see.

Still, Blossom's soft moan was worthy of a harder lick...then one more, and then another. Once Brick got the train rolling it was hard to stop. His taste buds demanded it. Brick pressed the flat of his tongue to Blossom's clit, greedily collecting the powerful, pineapple-sweet ambrosia from the lovely goddess herself, owner of his heart and body.

Slightly, he parted Blossom's nether, champagne-pink lips wider, to draw his tongue from the delicious entrance of her leaking inner walls, where the tightness of Blossom's body squeezed around his pink flesh—the warmth of his tongue like a phantom over her g-spot—and then up the thrumming beat of her gorgeous clit, and playfully nestled his nose atop her vulva. (Brick noted Blossom's pubic hair, while more coarse, possessed the same mouthwatering scents her head hair had).

Again and again, Brick repeated the long, rough strokes of his tongue betwixt Blossom's wonderfully wet honeyhole and her clit, eliciting ecstatic whimper after ecstatic whimper, the sounds increasing in volume each time. Blossom's nimble fingers urged Brick's face deeper into her hungry pussy, wordlessly begging him to tongue-fuck her.

Without a doubt, Brick definitely wanted to oblige her, except now he had his own situation to handle. The last thing he wanted to do cream his boxers mid-pussylick, but he was getting there himself, almost as much as Blossom was.

Standing up, Brick bent over to give his girl a hungry, feverish kiss—saliva and feminine nectar slipping from his taste buds. Blossom kissed him, just as hard, the rough and quick motions of her mouth against his expressed her undeniable need for him.

"God, I love you," Brick muttered, eagerly pulling Blossom by the wrists, prompting her to stand up. Kicking away the two desk chairs, he quickly decided that he was time they christen the desk.

"I love you, too," Blossom purred as Brick trailed an abundance of French kisses down her swan-long neck.

Positioning his masculine, wide hands on his girlfriend's hips, Brick propped her to sit on the desk as she worked to undress him. First to be thrown next to Blossom's panties was Brick's maroon t-shirt, then his jeans, and finally his boxers. Blossom marveled at the naked sight of him—muscular, but not over-sized. Her hands were splayed over Brick's boiling skin, grazing her smooth palms over his broad chest and lower torso, while Brick fiddled with the desk drawer in search for protection. One index finger glided over Brick's right pec, curiously circling her fingernail around and around the solid pebble. A very audible groan emanated from his vocal chords, as a rough shiver gave Brick goosebumps.

Grinning, Brick brushed his noise against Blossom's. "See something you like, pretty flower?"

"Mmm..." Blossom connected their lips again as her legs locked around his hops. "I see something I want."

With the condom secured around his cock, Brick drew the corona of his beating manhood up and down her honey-glazed folds. Sweet damn. Despite the rubber barrier, Brick could feel Blossom's burning heat, just at the head, as he lubed up with her juices alone. Yeah. He had gotten his girl all worked up. Brick was one, lucky son of a bitch. Unable to hold back any longer, Brick thrust himself all the way inside Blossom's body, who violently pinched his lower lip between her teeth to keep herself from screaming.

A weaker man would have cum right then and there, his dick surrounded by the pink Powerpuff Girl's vice-like walls—so warm and so tight—but Brick was stronger.

Just barely.

Beginning to stroke his cock in and out of wonderful pussy, Brick slid his hands over Blossom's scalp, through the silky, auburn fibers of hair. He tugged ever-so carefully, as Blossom ground her pussy against his sex, deliberately squeezing her channel around him in the way he loved.

"Harder," Blossom pleaded, her whimpers and mewls unabashedly wanton. "Harder, Brick, please! Oh, fuck me!" Panting, the redhead directed her strawberry milk gaze down between their bodies, fascinated by the repeated invasion of her wet center—his cock never once faltering, practically beating her g-spot with his sex.

"You want me to fuck you harder, babe? You got it," he promised.

Tightly gripping Blossom's amazing, supple, round ass, Brick lifted her up from the desk's surface, as her arms instinctively encircled his shoulders. Up and down, up and down, up and down, Blossom bounced her pussy on and off, on and off, on and off her boyfriend's swollen, thick rod, while the wine-pink buds of her areolae flicked against his brown ones.

"That's it, baby, just ride me," he murmured between sweaty pants.

From this position, Brick's staff sloshed against all the sensitive, sweet spots with Blossom's beautiful, tenacious womanhood, as she hardcore fucked herself on his cock. They grunted and moaned in unison, the noises slightly stifled by their entwined tongues—molding and melding in a battle for dominance. Ugh. The feeling of Blossom's pussy grinding and bouncing on him was fucking amazing, and so, so intense when her walls kissed his heavy hardness, the fit snug and awesome. He buried his face into the side of her neck, again teasing the skin with tongue.

"Briiick!" Blossom whimpered underneath her breath.

Suddenly, her pussy was wetter and tighter than before as a torrent of arousal gushed from the warm hole, the stream bountiful and thick. It dripped, just slightly, onto his balls, the sensation like a light tickle. Blossom's walls spasmed around his cock, trying to milk him for all he was worth, the quick throbbing tempting him to climax with her, and now that she was finished, what was really stopping him?

Kink. That's what.

Once Blossom's orgasm subsided, Brick let her down.

"I'm not far behind you... Wanna help a guy out?" Brick asked, tracing the pad of his thumb across her lower lip.

"I want to try something with you..." With that said, Blossom helped Brick peel the condom off his manhood and led him over to her bed, lowering her back comfortably to the mattress. She pressed her tits together to create an enticing image of perfect cleavage, as Brick squat over her mid-torso.

Yep. He was not going to last much longer.

Wedging his dick between Blossom's breasts, Brick bit down on his tongue. He always knew she was stacked, but damn, this was glorious. How had they never done this before? Brick pumped his cock with Blossom's tits, mesmerized by how they jiggled like Jell-O. His hips gyrated over the tantalizing sight. In a mere seven thrusts later, Brick was a goner. Spurts of warm jism squirted from his cockslit, painting Blossom's chestnut bangs in streams of white.

"Hey!" she complained, her precious locks now slick in seed. "Brick! You messed up my hair!"

Climbing off her with a sheepish smirk plastered to his face, Brick replied, "We can always hop in the shower and I'll shampoo your hair. Easy peasy."

"Ugh... Fine," Blossom agreed with an automatic roll of her eyes, marching toward her private washroom, a small area which was soon going to be overcrowded with hormones. "But no funny business."

Naturally, funny business ensued.


	3. Little Thing on My Mind

**Disclaimer: As per usual, nothing belongs to me!**

 **Author's Note: "The Hardest Thing" by Tyler Ward.**

* * *

 _I'm finally over me_

 _Is that too late for you?_

In retrospect, it had not been the most intellectual decision Brick had ever made, to spend time at the Underscore bar, when he was clearly too emotional to think straight, as well as slightly underage. Yet, here he was with his brothers, nursing his tenth bottle of beer. The three nineteen year-olds were laughed hysterically, pointing and gesturing at one another, as Boomer mockingly imitated Blossom's mannerisms. He was completely on spot, too—sticking his nose high in the air in the exact same way she would whenever she was right, jabbering on for ages about scientists until everyone's eardrums wound up numb, and how she always tossed her long, September-red hair over her shoulders as if she were the sexiest, most beautiful thing Brick had ever seen.

"She is so high-strung," the red Rowdyruff claimed, drunkenly leaning on Butch's shoulders for support, fearing he might fall out of his chair. "I swear to God I will never understand how one person can be wound up so tight."

Or maybe he was too loose that Blossom, ever the perfectionist, always needed to help Brick clean up his bad boy act—primp and polish him, so that she might have a shiny, decent boyfriend to take home to keep her warm in bed at night, or someone to show off to Daddy Utonium. Well, Blossom could go fuck herself. He was a Rowdyruff Boy, the undisputed ring leader, and he was not someone to be strung along by the puppet strings. Or maybe she was simply too good—too good for him—and was always hoping to inspire the best from him; perhaps Blossom could show Brick that there was more to life than kicking stubborn vending machines.

"Could never stand her, man," Butch slurred, repeatedly shaking his head. "None of those prissy Powderpuff Girls are any good."

"No, no, no, no" Boomer interjected, flailing his hands. "You see, they are good. It's just that..." the blond Rowdyruff Boy thoughtfully tapped his chin, on a mental quest for the perfect words. "We... We're so bad."

"Heeey!" Brick and Butch exclaimed in unison, clinking their respective drinks of beer, vodka, and tequila in lazy celebration.

"I dun't" _hic_ "need" her." _hic_. "All I need is" _hic_ "a good beer." _hic_

Downing what he was determined to make his last bottle of beer for the night, Brick had finally rinsed the dank flavors of Princess Morebucks' lipstick from his mouth, though it had been a full day since their last fuck session—a form of rebound therapy for Brick to quickly get over their mutual arch nemesis, but Princess failed to wipe his memory clean of Blossom. Sex with her was, at best, adequate, nothing close to the soft warmth of Blossom's peach skin against his. Princess couldn't compete with Blossom in any way, even as the taste of the latter's tender kiss began to fade from his tongue. Fuck, being with Blossom, his limbs entangled with hers in bed, was so much more than a mindless fuck.

God damn it, he loved her. Why didn't he ever tell her that?

Blossom gave him so much—her time, her attention, her body, and her heart. In return, Brick gave her a crapload of nothing, just all his bull shit problems that he wanted her to somehow solve. And Lord knew that the poor girl tried. Lord knew Blossom poured all of her faith into their relationship.

What did Brick do to show his gratitude?

What did he say?

Nothing.

Inebriatedly staggering, Brick removed himself from his eat. "Bottom line: Blossom is a bitch."

"You know what you should do?" Boomer chortled, belching a little bit.

"What?" Brick asked.

"You should tell her that to her face!" Boomer shouted elatedly, pounding the table.

"Dude, yes!" Butch agreed, nodding profusely like a bobble head. "Put that skank in her place. Nobody messes with my brother!"

"I'm gonna do it," Brick stated, his brain unable to consider and contemplate.

In their alcohol-induced stupor, all three Rowdyruff Boys stumbled to the Utonium house, singing "The Boys are Back in Town," at the top of their lungs, all the while Brick pondered all the things he was going to say to his ex-girlfriend. He was going to start by telling Blossom that she sucked at public displays of affection—if he wanted to make out with her in public, she should have let him. She would know how her high expectations made Brick feel like shit when he couldn't live up to her standards, which had been all the time. She'd know that Brick hated it when she placated him, pretending to like movies he enjoyed, even though he always saw Blossom roll her eyes whenever she thought he wasn't paying attention. Fuck her. Zombie movies were awesome.

Most of all, Brick planned on telling Blossom that she was stupid for breaking up with him. She would live to regret it.

"Hey, there she is," Butch said once they finally made it all the way to the Utonium house.

Naturally, Blossom sat on the front porch with her nose stuck in a book. In spite of Brick's alcoholic daze blurring out the rest of the world, she was the only thing he could see with perfect clarity.

"Powderpuff!" Boomer shouted, supporting his back against a tree. "My bone has a brother to pick with you. No, wait. That's not it..."

Looking up from her novel, Blossom didn't spare a glance in Butch or Boomer's direction. Instead, her magenta eyes were immediately fixated on her male counterpart's jelly-red ones, a furious, roaring heat boiling just beneath the surface. Boy, if looks could kill, that girl would need a license for her face.

She placed a bookmark between the book's thin pages, emitted a frustrated huff, and arose from her comfortable spot on the porch step.

As Blossom's hand wrapped around the doorknob, the red Rowdyruff finally found his tongue. "Blossom, wait! Just hear me out!"

A fragile sigh escaped through Blossom's mouth as she turned around, her stature tense and guarded. She impatiently folded her arms over her chest, waiting her ex-boyfriend to continue.

This was it. He was going to lay into her and not hold anything back. Blossom was going to regret giving up on him and leaving him empty.

"C'mon, Brick," Boomer cheered from under his breath.

"Yeah, make her cry," Butch added.

"You were right," Brick spouted truthfully, ignoring his idiotic brothers. In a sober state, he might have listened to their advice, but he was far from sober. He was an emotional trainwreck. "You were always right about everything. I can be better. I should have been better to you. Every time you whispered that you loved me, I felt so warm inside. You made my heart palpate and my stomach flip. You never even had to say it. I knew from the look in your eyes, but I was scared. I was scared that I would never be able to be the guy you needed me to be. I didn't think I could ever be him. I thought you deserved an actual good guy, so I broke a few petty laws. I ignored your texts and phone calls. I gave up on myself long before you did."

He didn't want to, but fuck, he was. Brick felt his crimson eyes sting with hot, salty tears, his guard totally down. His voice was riddled with cracks as he continued to speak. "You were right when you said that it's hard for me to hold onto anything good, and you were the best. I loved you all along, Blossom, and I still do." And he was devastated by his own stupidity. "I'm so sorry it took so long for me to say it."

Blossom could have thrown down her book and told him that they can start over. She could have said that she never truly gave up on Brick, all she needed to see was some effort on his part. She could have said that she loved him back. She could have said that she never stopped. She could have told Brick that he was too late, or how painfully shitty of him it was to finally confess his innermost feelings when he was certain to forget come morning. She could have said a lot of different things, but she offered him the same, cold silence Brick gave her so many times.

Pursing her lips, Blossom shrugged and shook her head, then went inside. She hadn't said a word in the face of Brick's drunken love, which was exactly what he deserved.

Nothing.


	4. Bout a Boy and a Girl

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me!**

 **Author's Note: I didn't have a lot to write about in the particular ficlet, because this was based off a memory between a friend and I, who I absolutely do not view as a romantic interest. Haha. Today's song is "Boyfriend" by Big Time Rush... Don't judge me.**

* * *

 _Have you ever had the feeling you're drawn to someone?_

 _Anything_

 _Any reason they could have said or done?_

Love was in the air at Pokey Oaks high school, the nature of romance in full bloom. Girls received a plethora of presents from their boyfriends—glittery jewelry, boxes of chocolate, and fancy bouquets from high-end flower shops. In return for the expensive gifts, the male halves of these materialistic relationships received cheek kisses, cupcakes purchased from the grocery store, and probably physical favors when the respective birds and bees found themselves alone, behind the protective shield of a closed door.

Actually, rather than love, it seemed teenage hormones pervaded the air.

"It's not that I'm not a romantic," Blossom deliberated to Brick as they walked around in laps around the courtyard, free to talk during their lunch period, "but the concept of buying presents seems anything, except romantic."

"It sounds to me like you're thinking about it too much," Brick replied, audibly sinking his teeth into an apple, "which is pretty typical of you."

Rolling her bubblegum-pink eyes, Blossom nudged her elbow against Brick's. "And you're not thinking about it enough, which is pretty typical of you."

"Hey!" Brick griped playfully, nudging her right back. "I'll have you know there is nothing typical about me."

"Suuure," Blossom laughed, her skeptical tone more indulgent than sarcastic.

The red Rowdyruff Boy and the pink Powerpuff Girl ceased their bitter rivalry long ago, when fate made them lab partners in the seventh grade during a frog dissection. In the middle of mutilating the amphibian's corpse, the two discovered they shared many interests such as a trivial passion for Egyptian mythology, a love for Shakespearean words though the stories themselves lacked vision, and a mild addiction to it's-so-bad-it's-good films. Granted, as children, their increasing fondness for one another was kept in the shadows, all the way until junior year of high school. Brick had grown independent from the purpose of his original design little by little, and left the world of petty thievery and destruction behind him, save pulling the occasional fire-alarm.

The Ruff and the Puff were unabashedly close to each other, the best of friends, never growing impatient with each others company and always partnering up when the opportunity came up.

"Anyway," Blossom continued. "I just feel it's a little superficial. "Why can't Valentine's Day be more about spending quality time together than about..." As if on cue, Blossom and Brick walked passed a couple that was too busy making out to nice the rest of the world walking right by them, as the girl held a bouquet of store-bought flowers in one hand, "that about _that_? It's so insincere."

"You're just saying that because no one got you anything," Brick snorted in between bites into his apple.

"On the contrary, I have more roses in my locker than I know what to do with," the pink Powerpuff replied. "I can probably start selling bouquets myself."

"Well, aren't you you the popular one?" Brick teased, humorlessly laughing. "I don't get it. Don't girls usually go nuts for fancy flowers?"

"Of course," she answered sheepishly, shrugging casually, "but I believe it would be a more heartfelt gesture if a guy picked flowers for me instead of purchase them at a holiday-exploiting shop. I'd prefer that any day."

"Okay," was Brick's simple response.

Blossom paused her stroll with Brick when the latter abruptly turned around and walked away. For a moment, she actually thought her best friend was irritated with her, but he hadn't wandered more than a few feet. Kneeling down next to the grassy area of the courtyard, Brick extended one arm, and carefully plucked a bouquet of dandelions and sunflowers, then neatly tied a rubber-band around the green stem. Perplexed at first, Blossom examined Brick's actions, tilting her head like a puppy.

"Here," Brick offered, handing over the group of flowers to Blossom.

She beamed at her male counterpart, appreciatively accepting his sweet, humble gift. "See? So much better," Blossom said, smelling the beautiful fragrance of the flowers—the scent potpourri-like with an expected air of dirt. "This is all I could ask for."

"Heh," Brick chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head. "Don't get used to it," though in all honesty, he would happily give Blossom an entire garden if she wanted more flowers. Not because he thought of her as more than a friend or anything.

Continuing to sniff the sunflowers and the dandelions, Blossom gave Brick a warm smile. "I'll try not to." Pulling one stem from the tight rubber-band, she gently puffed a breath at the sunflower's elegant, yellow petals, and turned them ice-blue, and then gave it to Brick. "I think it's fair guys should get gifts, too."

Unable to make proper eye contact, Brick curled his finger around the singular, most significant present he'd ever gotten, "Thanks."


	5. Tryin' to Take on the World

**Disclaimer: The PPG's don't belong to me, but if they did BrBl and ButchBubbles would be canon.**

 **Author's Note: Today's song is "That's What Girls Do" by No Secrets.**

* * *

●~ _You ask me do I play it cool just to make you sweat_

 _Yeah_ ● ~

Damn it, damn it, damn it.

How the heck did Brick let himself get trapped in Professor Utonium's containment ray? He was supposed to be the leader of the Rowdyruff Ruff Boys, the man with a plot, capable one; he was Brick the Bludgeoner, for God's sake.

But he was also a sucker for a pretty face and Blossom had the prettiest. All she needed to do was bat those long eyelashes, show off some skin, and pout those scarlet lips at Brick in order to lure him into the basement. He should have known better than to trust a goody-good Powerpuff brat, and now he was stuck being babysat by Blossom until the professor got home and figured out what to exactly do with the Ruff guest, that is if his brothers didn't show up first.

"Hey, Bosom-buddy, why don't you press that button over there and let me go?" Brick gestured to the remote control button just a couple of yards away from Blossom, barely out of his own reach. "If you do this one, small favor for me, I won't beat your pretty, little face to a pulp for trapping me in here."

"Nice try, Brick, but your offer doesn't really have any benefits for me," Blossom replied over from her spot by the professor's desk, working on her algebra homework.

"Okaaay," Brick retorted with an agitated roll of his eyes. He hated that the threat of his attack didn't frighten her in the slightest bit. "We can always pick up where we left off." Indicating to Blossom's somewhat disheveled appearance—the loosened knot of her red bow, the ruffled state of her ginger bangs, and the sweet calling of her ample cleavage after he effortlessly popped two buttons off her shirt—Brick's tone suggestive.

Emitting a mocking scoff, Blossom shot back, "Keep dreaming, loverboy."

Folding his arms over his chest, the right side of Brick's mouth twitched into a devilish, crooked smile—a dimple pressing into his cheek. "Come on, Blossy. Don't tell me you didn't enjoy at least a little bit?"

"Not even a little bit," Blossom stated matter-of-factually, arching an incredulous, auburn eyebrow. "I'm sure you already realized it was a ploy to contain you in the professor's invention. If you seriously haven't figured that out by now, you're even dumber than you look." Her head shook to and from, the long and straight locks cascading over her shoulders like a tangerine waterfall, as she ironically mirrored her counterpart's expression.

"You're a pretty decent liar, pretty flower," Brick began daringly, nonchalantly shrugging—in challenge of Blossom's casual, smug demeanor, "but I have the same abilities you do."

"What exactly are you getting at, Brick?" Ever-so slightly, Blossom's ice cream-pink irises darkened to an intriguing magenta, the same color they had been when Brick's hand idly feathered across her billowy chest.

"I mean that I can still feel your heartbeat," Brick said, lightly tapping his splayed digits against his chest. "Mine is the same way."

Indeed, the red Rowdyruff's own heart was pounding like a thunderstorm, each incredible thump like a shot of pure euphoria over and over again. It was as though he were high from the pheromones that continued to pervade and swirl between them—its aroma thick with sweat and vanilla bodyspray. As much as Blossom wanted to, she couldn't fool Brick. Her body betrayed her with every flutter that echoed from her rapid heartbeat, the pulsation perfectly synchronized with Brick's.

"It's from the adrenaline rush," the clever girl answered with a graceful swiftness, not once faltering in her disinterested facade. Unlike all of the girls at school, Blossom refused to swoon over his charm and apparent good looks. "All the fun for me is in holding you captive."

Kinky.

"Obviously," Brick chuckled darkly, arching an entertained eyebrow at his female counterpart. "That means you get to ogle me all you want, you lucky girl."

"Pardon me?" Blossom challenged, bemused by his outrageous, outlandish statement.

"Well, sure. I'm trapped in a containment ray," Brick said, gesturing to the light blue force field surrounding him. "I'm clearly not going anywhere. It makes perfect sense that you would want to take full advantage of that fact."

"You're delusional," Blossom retorted, expelling a light laugh—with a hint of a nervous edge. "For your information, I'm in the professor's laboratory to watch the security footage in case Butch and Boomer come snooping around."

"Sure," he chortled indulgently. "When are you going to admit you like me?"

"Never. Because I despise you."

"Oh, please." Brick rolled his crimson eyes, cocking his head at her. " _You_ were the one that kissed me. _You_ were the one that didn't want to stop. _You_ moaned for me." And there was nothing feigned or embellished about that moan either. It was genuine and carefree. Even though Blossom couldn't admit it to herself, Brick knew that her moan, her little mewl of pleasure, was earned, because she sincerely enjoyed the sensual way he kissed her—his tongue patiently massaging hers in a dance for dominance, while his hands roughly roamed over her body.

Setting down her mechanical pencil with a sultry grin adorning her lust-red mouth, Blossom sauntered over to Brick. "When are you going to admit you like me, Brick?"

Woah. Wait. What? "Where did you get that crazy idea from?" Sure, he lusted after Blossom from time to time. No question. She was a bombshell. But like? "Talk about an over-exaggeration."

"And yet, I'm not the one trapped," Blossom countered, catching her lower lip between sparkly white teeth. "I may have initiated things, Brick, but you were the one to escalate them. You were the one to suggest we ditch the rest of school. You were the one who thought my basement would be a safe haven for you to touch and tease me. And you were the one who got yourself captured by me, not the other way around." Triumphant in her final reasoning, Blossom returned to her homework while Brick was stupefied and outwitted, yet again, into silence.

He was impressed by her rebuttal. Impressed, but not quite convinced.

Still...

Damn it, damn it, damn it.

And that was how he got himself trapped in Professor Utonium's containment ray.


	6. One Kiss at a Time

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.**

 **Author's Note: "Rescue You" by Jake Epstein.**

* * *

■~ _If ever I can rescue yours_

 _When you need two arms to fall in to_

 _You know exactly where I'll be_

 _Just look for me ~_ ■

"Brick, I'm fine. You really don't need to carry me around," the leader of the Powerpuff Girls insisted impatiently as Brick kicked upon the restroom door in Mojo Jojo's layer. "Honestly, you don't have to be so worried."

"Are you freaking kidding me?" Brick questioned, incredulous over her proud behavior. "If our roles were reversed, how would you feel?"

"Well, I would be concerned for you, of course, but I certainly wouldn't treat you like a child," Blossom fired back as her boyfriend carefully perched her on the counter top, humiliated by all the fuss he was putting himself through.

"Seriously," Brick started with an annoyed roll of his eyes, in total disbelief of her current attitude toward him, "a street thug just shot you and you get mad at me?"

Granted, the head Rowdyruff Boy was amazing at how well Blossom seemed to recover from the shot, but he was worried for her nonetheless. After all the criminals in Townsville were becoming more aggressive, tired of always being outsmarted by the Powerpuff Girls.

This time, during a routine bank robbery, one of the thieves actually pulled out a handgun from his backpack and fired at a hostage, who Blossom immediately pushed out of harm's way. At that precise moment the speeding bullet tore through Blossom's shoulder, the Rowdyruff Boys, the Powerpuff Girls' back up, arrived. Butch and Boomer helped Bubbles and Buttercup apprehend the criminals, while Brick collected a stunned Blossom off the cold ground. His heart throbbed painfully in his chest as she instinctively curled up in his protective arms, whimpering from the unbelievable pain. Brick ripped off a part of his t-shirt and tied it around Blossom's shoulder.

He would have taken her to the hospital, but she begged him to let her stay until the police came to arrest the robbers. Which took an hour. By then, the wound began healing at a rapid pace, but Brick still wanted to have it seen to, and if Blossom was going to be a stubborn brat about it, he'd force her. And that's exactly what he did. With Blossom screaming and kicking and fighting him all the way.

"I'm not mad at you, Brick. I just don't see why you're making such a big deal out of nothing," Blossom stated, folding her arms over her chest. The little movement was too much and too soon for her shoulder to handle, causing the stubborn heroine to hiss and wince.

"See? You're hurt," Brick replied softly as Blossom's pain emphasized his precise point. "That's what makes it such a big deal to me. Why won't you let me take care of you, baby?"

Truth be told, however, he might have been more frazzled than she was. The mere memory of bursting through the bank's arched rooftop only to see Blossom fall to the ground made his blood boil and run cold all at the same time, playing over and over again in slow motion in his head.

Bang. Scream. Thud. Repeat.

The bullet severed several vital arteries and the shot would have killed anyone else. If it weren't for the incredible properties of Chemical X, Brick would have lost Blossom.

What a brutal way to be reminded of someone's mortality.

Noticing the sincere worry blazing through Brick's burgundy irises, Blossom's hardened demeanor softened. "Because it's embarrassing. I'm not supposed to be the victim. I'm supposed to be the hero. I'm supposed to be faster than a bullet, but one tiny, little miscalculation managed to put me flat on the floor."

He didn't quite understand what she was saying. Her pride hurt worse than her shoulder? "You've messed up before, Blossom."

"I've never messed up in front of you," she explained, casting her gorgeous rose-pink eyes downward, too ashamed to meet Brick's amber gaze. "I don't want you to think of me as some sort of damsel in distress."

Oh.

"I don't," the auburn-haired teen retorted. Both hands framed his girlfriend's heated cheeks as he leaned his forehead against hers. They gazed into one anothers eyes, deeply fascinated by the souls lying just beyond the respective strawberry-pink and scarlet surfaces. "A damsel in distress wouldn't have jumped in front of a bullet to begin with. It doesn't mean I'm not gonna worry, though."

Nodding, Blossom gave Brick a small smile. She was humbled and touched by his sweet consideration. "I suppose that's fair."

"Will you be a good patient now?"

"Yes, Brick. I will."

"Atta girl."

Kneeling down in front of Mojo's bathroom cabinets, Brick swung open the doors, not the least bit surprised to see a variety of medical supplies displayed through the dark space—everything from band-aids to surgical scissors. Given his frequent encounters with the Powerpuff Girls, Mojo needed to keep this stuff handy in order to patch himself up. Rifling through the big-brained ape's cabinets was probably the next best thing after going to a hospital.

Brick stood back up with a collection of bottles, cotton balls, and bandages in his arms, then set the items on the sink counter.

Carefully, he unwrapped the blood-soaked rag around Blossom's wounded shoulder. She cringed at the steady peel of her skin, as torn t-shirt removed dried flakes of browning blood that had been sticking to hole. Not only was her skin all but ripped open like wrapping paper, but the wound was rimmed with a deep purple bruise.

Luckily, Brick dabbed on some numbing cream; it wouldn't completely take the sting away, but it would make the process of cleaning the wound a touch more bearable for her. Blossom gritted her teeth as Brick rubbed alcohol over her dispersed skin, the potent stench making her want to retch, but she made no movements and let the red Rowdyruff Boy clean her up. When he finished, he covered her shoulder with a roll of bandages, tying the gauze on tight like a cast.

"Okay. All done," he announced, quite proud of his handiwork.

"Thank you so much, Brick," the pink Powerpuff replied with an affectionate tone laced through her voice.

"Don't mention it, babe," Brick said, lightly chuckling.

With her good arm, Blossom tugged on the collar of Brick's ruined t-shirt and brought him closer to her, giving him a tender kiss on the lips. Her ego was healed as soon as his mouth assured her that he was always on her side.

Maybe having Brick taking care of her wasn't so bad after all.


	7. Now the Funny Thing About It

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me! "Out of Reach" by BBMak, a song that I heard on an episode of Lizzie McGuire.**

 **Author's Note: I don't know... I wasn't really planning on righting a sequel to Brick's drunken loveness, but this just popped into my head. At least you'll know how Blossom's dealing with her side of the situation. She's not falling apart on the inside like Brick is, but she misses him. I don't know if I'll write a ficlet where they get back together. I just can't picture it in this instance. It doesn't feel organic to this version of Blossom. We'll see. I don't know yet.**

* * *

 _I need you so much_

 _You're out of reach_

 _But you're so close_

Passing Brick by in the hallways was a different experience now. Before, when they were merely enemies, everything was easier. He would never allow Blossom to simply avoid him, jumping in her way and striking up some flirtatious banter. After awhile, the routine began to grow on her as she gradually became fonder of him. When they were together, in the blooming, relaxed stages of couplehood, she would giddily wave at him as she strolled betwixt her sisters, and he would throw her that devil-may-care smirk and wink. But when she confessed her deeper feelings, he stopped acknowledging her in the hallways. It hurt to be ignored, but she realized that Brick was caught off-guard, so Blossom dismissed it as something something small, until the silence escalated. He pushed her away—ignoring her texts and remaining absolutely quiet whenever they hung out.

So, Blossom broke up with him, her patience worn and tattered.

Now, they were back to being rivals—exes—except he walked on the opposite side of the hallway, going out of his way to avoid her.

Granted, this occurrence was brand new, a result of Brick's drunk confession the other night.

Truthfully, Blossom didn't exactly regret her ever-cold composure. Yes, she had known all along that Brick loved her and she didn't really mind that he had trouble saying so, but she decided that she didn't want to be with someone who ignored her, because he was too scared of his own feelings. Blossom wanted to be honest with Brick, but he was far too self-absorbed to return the favor.

So, Blossom went back inside, sucked in a sharp breath to keep herself from crying, and went to bed.

Brick was right. He didn't deserve her.

But Blossom, for as smart she was, couldn't figure out how to stop loving Brick.

It wasn't like she wanted to get back together. She just sort of wished he would pester her again.

"I guess I miss him," Blossom murmured to Robin, taking advantage of movie day in Social Studies.

"He's a moron," Robin remarked bitterly, protective of her friend's feelings.

"He is," Blossom confirmed, resting her head on the desk, "but maybe I'm used to him being my moron."

"You should get over him, Blossom," Robin told the pink Powerpuff. "It's not going to do you any good to wallow."

Of course Blossom knew Robin was right, but that didn't stop her from pathetically pining away over the Rowdyruff leader like some lovesick fool. A small part of her wished that she had never given that idiot a chance at winning her heart in the first place, but she let her defenses down in the face of his cheeky pick-up lines and addictive kisses. She was a capable and bright girl, but she enjoyed the challenged her male counterpart presented her with—from matching the dominance of his tongue in her mouth, to bringing out the good in him. Unfortunately, Brick was stupid and mean and horrible.

"Besides," Robin continued after Blossom's failure to respond, "he and and Princess are all over each other."

Oh, yes. _That_. "Princess and Brick can toy with each other all they want," Blossom replied, rolling her eyes in agitation. "It doesn't really bother me."

And why should it? Brick and Princess shared a mere physical connection. Their tongues were always lodged in each others faces, what time did they have to get to know each other? Did Princess know that Brick loved going to the zoo just to see the kangaroos? Did she knew that Brick sometimes wished he had a biological mother and father? Did she know that Brick loved blasting the car radio to its highest volume setting whenever a Nickleback song came on and always sang at the top of his lungs? Blossom would wager winning money that Princess didn't even know about Brick's fear of being isolated from everyone. No. Blossom wasn't jealous of their new relationship. Princess would never know Brick the way she did, that Blossom was certain of.

"You shouldn't be bothered by them. They'll never last," Robin retorted.

Shrugging nonchalantly, the redhead girl said, "Rebounds never do, but even if they did last, I know Brick. He could never truly be happy with Princess. He might settle for being in a boring relationship, but he'll never love her."

However, that fact didn't quite make Blossom feel better.

The bell rang throughout the classroom, signaling the conclusion of fourth period.

Blossom collected her books in her arms and filed out into the hallway, getting lost in a crowd of people that had all the hustle of the Frankenstein monster. And then, Blossom spotted a red figure out of the corner of her bubblegum-pink eyes. Brick brushed passed dozens of fellow students on the opposite side of the hallway, struggling to make his way through as he normally did.

Today, the Pokey Oaks halls were must more congested, filled with regular students and eighth graders being given a tour of the campus.

Neither of them realized it, but they were both being moved toward the center of the hallway as they tried to hastily make it to their next classes.

Blossom's heart skipped an anxious beat once she saw Brick heading directly, albeit against his will, towards her. His plum-red eyes were on hers as well, an expression of worry plastered on his face—a crease forming between his dark eyebrows. Nothing could resolve the fact that they were being pushed closer together.

A sharp breath hitched in the back of Blossom's parched throat when her left shoulder collided with Brick's right one; the contact was rough, yet momentary. To anyone else, the clumsily timed bump would have been trivial. Insignificant. Not even worth noticing, but Blossom and Brick stopped dead in their tracks simultaneously.

"I-I-I apologize," Blossom stammered apprehensively, her pupils expanding from panic.

Brick shrugged casually, trying to keep his face neutral, though a phantom smirk played at the left corner of his mouth. "Just watch where you're going," he muttered, somewhat smug in his reply.

"Or you could pay more attention to your surroundings," Blossom replied sharply.

"I could, but then awkward moments like this would be scarcer."

"If only."

"Could you two just move already!" a girl shouted angrily from behind Blossom.

Without another word to one another, they placated the frustrated girl and started walking again, heading in separate directions. Thankfully, the hallway was a little less packed, giving Blossom enough space to calmly stroll to Physics.

While Blossom's heart raced, a little lightheaded from her encounter with Brick—wishing the moment lasted longer, the Rowdyruff Boy in question glanced over his shoulder as he always did when Blossom wasn't paying attention. He watched her turn the corner into the next hall, and sighed to himself, hoping she left a bruise on his shoulder—wondering if she missed him at all.


	8. Ain't a Story Without It

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. I am not worthy!**

 **Author's Note: Happy Friday! You must be eighteen years or older to read this upcoming update. It's a lemon! "Never Say Never" by The Fray.**

* * *

 _Picture_

 _You're the queen of everything_

 _As far as the eye can see_

 _Under your command_

Yeah.

Red was a more agreeable color on Blossom than it was on him, Brick silently mused to himself. He sat in a desk chair against the wall of his bedroom, drinking in the sexy vision of his girlfriend posing for him like a porn model on the edge of his bed. Brick thought about how edible Blossom looked in _his_ color. Perhaps it was the way it brought out the lustful, fuschia glimmer in her eyes or the sensual contrast between the shiny, red fabric and her peach skin. Beautiful. Absolutely drop-dead gorgeous.

Upon Blossom's head was Brick's baseball cap. Her long, autumn-red tendrils had been pulled through the hole, the locks of honey-gold and crisp chestnut cascading over her back, touching the beginning curve pf her round, supple ass. Painted on Blossom's bow-shaped lips was scarlet, the carnal hue accented the fullness of her mouth—the lipgloss shimmering in the dim light, its scent like strawberries and cream. Then, there was Blossom's silk ribbon, tied in a bow around her endowed chest—covering her slightly pebbled areolae, making Brick's mouth water profusely.

With the exception of his hat and the ribbon, Blossom was naked. And the sight was taunting Brick. Killing him.

The red Rowdyruff Boy snapped picture after picture of his girlfriend with his camera phone. His fingers trembled as repeatedly pressed the camera button, trying to focus on taking the damn pictures; but his cock was in pain. His manhood strained against the zipper of his jeans, throbbing heavily like a heartbeat as his dilated pupils absorbed the image of Blossom—sitting against the headboard with her legs spread out—and registered it to his retinas. She looked so perfect with her pussy on full display for him.

Apparently, Blossom felt hot and bothered, too—feeling like an exhibitionist as Brick built a collection of photos to come back to on a later date. Her snatch was soaked, droplets of arousal pooling around Brick's fortunate, cotton bed sheets.

Best. Fucking. Birthday. Present. _**Ever**_.

Holy shit. He was one lucky guy.

"Are you getting wet just from me taking pictures of you?" Brick questioned, surprised to hear the husky chuckle resonating deeply in his own voice. He wanted her so bad.

"Mm-hmm," Blossom replied, nodding once. She slightly tilted her pelvis up, propping a pillow under her ass, to give him a better view. "Here, I thought it was so obvious... I like having you watch me."

What a grand coincidence. He loved watching her.

"Don't you want to play with yourself a little?" he asked, fixated on the clear moisture seeping from her entrance. There was so much pooling beneath her.

"Not particularly," Blossom answered, somewhat embarrassed by Brick's question. Yes, the smoldering heat sizzling in his burgundy eyes was erotic, making her a touch lightheaded, but she couldn't relax enough on her own.

"Why not?" the ginger-haired teen inquire, licking his lips as the buttons of her breasts elongated a little more. "It looks like your pussy needs some attention."

Again, Blossom nodded as the cerise blush of her cheeks deepened to raspberry-red. "It doesn't feel the same way when I do it by myself. I prefer it when you touch me, Brick."

Fuck. If Blossom was ever in the mood to be touched, there was no question he would be right over whenever she needed him.

"Do you want me to touch you, Blossom?" Brick inquired, turning off his camera. Their photoshoot was done for the day. He set his phone aside, stood up from his seat, and walked toward the bed.

"No," Blossom replied simply, crawling toward the edge of the mattress like a prowling panther and stood on her knees.

Circling his arms around Blossom's slender waist, Brick touched the tip of his nose to hers—inhaling the soft, cherry-vanilla aroma of her perfume. "Tell me what you want, pretty flower."

"You," the pink Powerpuff murmured, embedding her flushed lower lip between her teeth as one hand snaked under Brick's shirt. "I want to touch you."

"Do you now?"

"Very much so."

"And what if I don't feel obliging?" Brick challenged, gently brushing her hand away from him, though her touch spiked the dopamine crawling through her brainwaves. "It is my birthday, after all."

"That's why I want to touch you. I want my birthday boy to feel good," Blossom said, the hint of pleading expression painted upon her adorable face—jutting out her bottom lip in the slightly, cutest pout ever.

"You make a valid point," Brick concurred, a smidgen distracted by Blossom's light breathing—her 40-C cup breasts rising and diminishing with each minty expulsion of air. "May I offer you a counterpoint?"

"Please do."

Curling a finger beneath Blossom's chin, Brick drew her pretty mouth closer to his. Touching their lips together, Brick kissed her tenderly and slowly—pacing himself, gently molding the full, warm shape of his mouth to hers. It didn't take too long for things to heat up when his dick thumped aggressively in his jeans. Blossom's lips, tasting of strawberry-flavored candy, parted against his, leading Brick's domineering tongue into her mouth. They groaned in unison as their tongues tangoed fervently, creating a subtle, delightful friction. Brick couldn't keep himself from smiling when he felt Blossom's shoulders shudder underneath his palms in reaction to a delicious, strong, vehement tremor rattling up her spine.

"Feel good?" he chuckled huskily, peppering kisses along her jawline.

"Immensely," she retorted, her hands folding up the edge of Brick's shirt until it was off, to reveal his amazing physique—those washboard abs and the auburn trail leading to his pants.

"I know you're an eager beaver," emphasis on the beaver, "but you'll have to be patient awhile longer," Brick stated, cuffing both of Blossom's wrists together in his right hand.

"I don't understand. Why don't you want me to touch you?" Blossom queried, puzzled by his repeated rejection. With his shirt on the floor, all she wanted to do was touch him.

The head of the Powerpuff Girls could quite absurd sometimes. "Oh, believe me, I'm curious to see what kind of magic your hands can work."

"Who said anything about using my hands?" Blossom teased, speaking to her boyfriend in a playful, sultry tone. She dipped her close to his cheek, then feathered the tip of tongue across his earlobe.

Releasing both of her hands, Brick placed both his palms flat against the small of her back. "You little vixen," he accused lovingly under his breath. "I'll let you touch me all you want, baby, but I need something I've been dying to do out of the way first."

"And what is that?" Blossom asked.

Brick didn't answer Blossom. Instead, he tugged the flap of the silk-red bow loose, allowing it to fall to the carpet. He closed the remaining proximity between their bodies, urging Blossom to lay back. She followed Brick's silent instructions, her chestnut tendrils splayed around her form like some sort of angel. No. Not an angel, but a goodess.

Brick hovered over Blossom, his plum orbs locked with her magenta ones, before his eyes began to gawk at her outstanding wrack. He cupped the sides of both pillowy globes between his hands and brought them together—squeezing harshly, making Blossom's nipples jut out side by side. She whimpered softly as Brick flicked his thumbs over the needy buttons; he slid one knee betwixt her thighs and slowly rubbed his kneecap against his poor girl's leaking core. Blossom moaning over and over again, becoming louder and louder while he sucked both taut nipples into warm mouth—drawing his tongue along the rose-colored, twin pebbles. He'd been aching to do this for quite some time, to get a taste of Blossom's tits. Just the fantasy had been torture for him, and now his cock was also leaking, drops of premium seeping from the tip of his head—as Brick ghosted his teeth over the pretty flower's nipples, giving them the attention they deserved so greedily.

And then suddenly, Brick felt the powerful grip of Blossom's thighs around his knee while the rest of her body began writhing against the soft surface of the mattress. "Brick!" she shouted, clawing her fingernails into his shoulder blades and left streaks of pure pink on his skin. Growling against her supple slopes, Brick inwardly relished in the delicious gyration of feminine parts eagerly grind against his body. "Brick..." Blossom mewled in the midst of her first orgasm of their session.

Popping the Powerpuff Girl's nipples out of his mouth, Brick offered his delectable girlfriend a sheepish smirk. "Do you feel good, babe?"

"Unbelievable," Blossom exhaled breathlessly, as the high slowly subsided.

"Yeah?" Lifting himself up, Brick loosened the belt of his jeans under the blazing fire of Blossom's lustful, lemonade-pink stare. A little bashful now, he yanked down his pants and underwear, allowing his cock to spring free—proud and stiff. He didn't have time to toss his clothes aside before Blossom attacked him—grabbing Brick by the shoulders and shoving him down to lay on the bed, and then wiping his boxers and jeans clean from his ankles. "Woah," he chortled lightheartedly as Blossom now hovered over him.

"I want you so bad," she confessed, brushing her soft lips over his Adam's apple.

"You have me, Blossom. I'm right here," Brick affectionately reassured her, pulling the baseball cap off her head. He wanted to comb his fingers through her tangerine tendrils, the texture soothing to the savage beast within. When she came just a few moments ago, the red Rowdyruff Boy nearly unleashed his careless half, someone who would have pinned Blossom to the bed and fucked her brains out until he was spent, but he maintained tame for now. He wanted to take his time with Blossom, to enjoy the feeling of their bodies close together.

There was plenty of time to fuck her brains out. Which he definitely planned on.

Blossom's mouth felt like heaven on his skin as she gave his torso a plethora of attention—licking around each of his pecs, nibbling on the valleys between his abdominal muscles, and simply nuzzling her face against his stomach. She trailed her tongue up and down his muscular, masculine torso—her breasts ghosting over the center of his pelvic bone. Brick relished the sensation of Blossom's tongue bath when she increased the pressure of her tongue against his wet flesh each time—licking him harder and harder, reaching lower and lower down his body. Blossom teased Brick, making his cock fume with urgency, until finally...

She swallowed him all the way down to the root, sneaking her tongue over her lower lip to give the center of his balls short, light laps.

"Fuuuck!" Brick groaned, involuntarily arching his hips. "Fuck, baby, don't you dare fucking stop. Yeah, Blossom, suck my cock. Oh, my god..."

Groaning around his staff—feeling the wonderful, insatiable sound vibrate around his engorged veins, Blossom was clearly a fan of dirty talk. The peach surface of her soft skin burned brighter as Brick spoke commands and profanities at her. She whimpered, practically vacuuming his dick all the way into the back of her throat. The Rowdyruff Boy's girth was impressive, truly testing her gag reflec each time she swallowed Brick's manhood in its entirety, but she could tell her boyfriend some pleasure in listening to the slight gagging noises she made, as he moaned in earnest—becoming more and more desperate. Every few seconds, Brick would arch his hips, slapping his heavy testicles against Blossom's chin, panting even harder.

"Your throat feels so good, but I think your pussy feels even better," Brick said through harsh grunts.

"Are you sure?" Blossom inquired, continuously licking at the swollen glands in his cockslit as if his member was a Tootsie Pop.

"C'mere." He arched a smug eyebrow and crooked his fingers at his girl, his full-mouthed smirk gleaming with want and need. Sitting up against the headboard, he gestured at his pelvis. "Sit on my cock, baby. I want to see you ride me for awhile."

Without saying a single word, Blossom complied. She threw her legs over Brick's hips, squeezed her hand over the midsection of his boner, and lubricated it between her drooling folds. Brick studiously observed Blossom, memorizing the hummingbird flutter of her heart as she distractedly massaged her clit with the head of his cock. She knit her auburn eyebrows in an angular direction, mewling softly. He liked watching Blossom play with his dick. Finally, Blossom angled the bulging cockhead toward her honeyhole and then sunk her tight, wet walls around him.

"Shit!" Brick swore through clenched teeth as Blossom's pussy engulfed him all the way to the base. "I want see you fuck yourself with my cock, Blossom," he growled, burying his fingertips into the pink Powerpuff Girl's defined hips.

Again, Blossom obliged—beginning to gyrate her hips up and down, repeatedly filling her womanhood his manhood—bare, wet, raw, and wild. Her sweet voice resonated with pleasured screams as he hit her g-spot over and over again, the glands swelling with magical euphoria. It felt so good and so amazing. Blossom rode Brick's cock elatedly, grinding her nectared walls against the fat, thick meat of his pole. She stirred him like a spoon in her pussy, swirling her hips around and around. And when she concentrated hard enough, she could feel Brick's hard-on throb and swell just a little bit more.

But Brick refused to cum before Blossom.

"Slow down, cowgirl," he teased, holding her hips still. He steadied Blossom's excited movements, forcing her to merely rock against his cock as he thumbed her clit.

Circling his thumb around the precious, pink bud, Brick listened to Blossom's incessant whines. "Yes, Brick, please..." She ground against him a little harder.

"Cum for me, Blossom," Brick snarled, bouncing his own hips on and off the mattress, the strong force lifting Blossom's soaked cunt all the way off his erection only to come crashing back down, so hard that she could feel the collision of the sexes in her stomach, bruising her cervix.—the sounds of whimpering and bed squeaking echoing off the bedroom walls. With every thrust to send her flying, Blossom's tits jiggled tauntingly.

When he filled his mouth with Blossom's right breast, neither of them could take it anymore.

They both hit climax—as Blossom's tight channel grew even tighter, the spasms drinking in Brick's hot milk, forcing his cock to give her pussy every last ounce of seed. Their parallel highs rushed through their bodies like slippery torrents, rendering both the pink Powerpuff Girl and the red Rowdyruff Boy to groaning puddles of ecstasy and sex.

Collapsing on to the bed, Blossom curled herself into Brick's arms. "You're the devil," she sighed lovingly into his ear.

"I'm your devil, baby," he sheepishly grinned.

"You are," the pink Powerpuff confirmed softly. "Happy birthday, Brick."


	9. But the Story is Mine

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, bro.**

 **Author's Note: Not quite Brick/Blossom. Instead this one is very Berserk-centered. "Your Ex-Lover is Dead," by Stars.**

* * *

 _You were what I wanted_

 _I gave what I gave_

 _I'm not sorry I met you_

 _I'm not sorry it's over_

 _I'm not sorry there's nothing to say_

Her own reflection was her worst enemy. Each detail identical, each contour perfectly matched, each shadow copy and pasted to reflect the beautiful face of Blossom Utonium, the undeniable equilibrium between hardcore and sugary sweet, subtle and bold, burning fire and raw ice—the leader of the heroic triad, the Powerpuff Girls; while she, Berserk, was nothing more than a tangled mess of her great, inspiring counterpart. She hated the face she saw in the mirror, glowering back at her with a scornful blaze, a gaze that could burn down the entire world if she so pleased. A vehement shiver coursed along her spine as the Powerpunk Girl yanked the loose, silk ribbon out from her chestnut locks, then tied the material into Blossom's signature red bow—looking even more like her than before.

Berserk's glare deepened, wanting to vomit at the very image of herself.

 _How pathetic_.

...

"Brick... Could you please say something? Could you please tell me that I'm not crazy," the pink Powerpunk Girl begged, absentmindedly twirling a finger through an auburn curl.

"You're not crazy, but you are right," Brick admitted as he emitted a deep, sharp sigh from his chest. He kicked at a rock nervously, at a loss for what he was supposed to say or do to rectify his ex-lover's breaking heart.

Berserk supposed that she knew all along. She and the Rowdyruff Boy were never really a couple—they never held hands while walking down the hallways together, they never kissed in public, he never bought her flowers after an argument, he never breathed in the scent of her freshly shampooed hair as if her fragrance was oxygen, she never expected romantic gestures from him, and she never texted him for a friendly conversation. No. Those kind of sappy sentiments were reserved for his actual girlfriend, Princess Morebucks; Princess, Brick's rebound, received all the half-assed, halfhearted gestures from him, little gifts to keep up with appearances—pretending he was okay.

But Brick was just a guy like any other and Berserk was far more naive than her flawless, intelligent counterpart. She was happy to serve as Brick's fuck buddy on the nights where Princess was too busy being a bitch. The sex between them was indisputably awesome. Brick fucked Berserk with sheer, raw might, every thrust a rush of ecstasy for her body, and she could deliver the same amount of force right back. The demonic smirk that played upon his lips always made Berserk's heart skip a beat, the feeling like lightning shooting through her veins. Brick was the best fuck Berserk ever had, and...

She usually enjoyed the aftermath of each session, when Brick would spoon his body against hers from behind and comb his long fingers through her hair. He would whisper how beautiful and sexy Berserk was, moments before she fell asleep, lulled by the mesmerizing warmth of his body. But Berserk didn't love him, not then.

How could she love someone who always vanished by morning?

How could she love a guy who was blatantly on some other girl's hooks?

But then something beautiful happened—Brick broke up with Princess—and Berserk foolishly found herself hoping that he truly wanted to be with _her_. Berserk wasn't stupid, though, so she didn't really get her heart in a bind over the issue. But then, Brick sneaked into her room after midnight, as he always did—and the Powerpunk Girl sensed there was something different about him. Instead of tearing off her clothes as he normally did, Brick instead stripped her down slowly—brushing his calloused fingertips across Berserk's peach flesh when it was bare, then tasted every last inch of her body. That night, Brick and Berserk never said a word to each other as their bodies entwined, taking all the time in the world to touch, tease, and taste. The red Rowdyruff Boy and the pink Powerpunk Girl actually made love to one another, for the first time. Their night together was passionate and paced.

Wonderful. Beautiful. Amazing.

Berserk loved him. She knew for sure.

By morning, Brick was still present in Berserk's bed, pulling her back closer to his chest if she shifted even a centimeter away. Berserk discovered that her attentive, expert lover was a sleeptalker. Fast asleep, his velvet voice murmured into her ear, "I love you... I've loved you all along. I'll never stop loving you..." Her name, however, didn't follow the sentimental declaration.

It was Blossom's.

Snapping herself out of her silent contemplation, Berserk whispered in a crestfallen tone, "Is that what all those nights were? Was I just a lookalike for her?"

"Yes." At least he was honest.

"Did you ever even like me?" Berserk asked, though her heart was already crushed by his confession. Nothing he could say could now fix it.

"I've always liked you, Berserk," Brick said, cautiously resting a palm over her shoulder. When she didn't pull away or shrink away from his comfort, her stepped closer to her. "You're funny and low maintenance. You don't freak out if a single hair is out of place. You're easy to talk to and I don't have to be better around you."

"I don't understand... I swear to God that I will never understand how you can love _her_ if I'm so fucking great." Berserk refused to let herself cry. She wouldn't shed a single tear in front of this asshole.

"You are great," he replied reassuringly, "but I'm idiot, Berserk. I'm so sorry."

"For what?" she inquired sarcastically, her upper teeth bearing down on her bottom—grinding. "For using me? For treating me as some replacement for the real love of your life? For thinking of me just as her face?" She kept pushing him back, digging her fingers into the thudding of his chest with each poke, until he was trapped between her and a wall, and then delivered a sharp, resounding smack across his face.

Brick put a hand to his cheek, rubbing out the pink sting out of his cheek. "I'm really sorry. How can I make it up to you?"

So... He wanted to set things right, did he? For starters, Brick could penetrate a rusty knife through his chest and cut out his shallow, black heart; he could hand over the drumming organ to Berserk and let her throw it on the ground; he could find Berserk's sharpest pair of high heels and then watch in horror as she stomped on his heart like a bug, until the gore was spread all over the rug between them.

"You can't," Berserk answered, crossing her arms over her chest. She never felt this small before. "...Is that it felt like when Blossom dumped you?"

"You mean that cold feeling where you're caught in the middle of a thunderstorm and all the raindrops keep beating down on your shoulders?" Brick questions, his crimson gaze pasted on the carpet.

"Something like that."

"That's what it feels like everyday."

Tightly pursing her lips together to keep herself from crying, Berserk nodded at Brick. Her fingers trembled, all feeling and sensation agonizingly numb. "You need to go."

"Berserk," Brick exhaled, his wood-red bangs slightly catching the thin breath, "I can't leave you hurting like this..."

"I'm fine," the stubborn Powerpunk Girl insisted, her tone low and threatening. "Get. Out. Now."

...

Expelling a guttural, sharp scream of unadulterated, maddening misery, Berserk threw one, stone-hard fist into the center of her mirror, the glass lying in shards across her dresser. She clutched one shard in her hand, its jagged sides piercing her palm as streaks of shiny red streamed down her wrist.

Berserk wanted to use the shattered piece of glass on her face and peel off the pretty skin—anything to rid herself of Blossom's reflection; she wanted to stab the glass fragment through her eyeballs and never have to see herself in a mirror ever again.

But that's not what Berserk did. Oh, not. It was not herself she wanted to harm. At heart, she truly wanted to hurt Brick for dragging her into the crossfires of heartbreak to begin it—she craved ice-cold vengeance.

And so, on the following Monday, Berserk confronted the Powerpuff Girl commander at school, just before classes began, and told Blossom _everything_.

 **Author's Note: I know. I'm a bitch. Sorry, not sorry.**


	10. And I Wish You Could Say

**Disclaimer: None of the characters in the following text belongs to me.**

 **Author's Note: Just some of Blossom's perspective following Chapter Five. "Little Red Riding Hood" by Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs.**

 **Author's Note #2: Expect some fluff in the next chapter.**

* * *

 _Hey there, Little Red Riding Hood_

 _You sure are looking good_

 _You're everything a big, bad wolf could want_

Blossom impatiently glanced over her shoulder and glowered at the insanely slow hands of the clock. There was three more hours left of the school day, and thus three more hours until Bubbles and Buttercup came home from school to help her look after the contained leader of the Rowdyruff Boys, while the professor was off at a science seminar, or something along those lines. That meant Blossom had three more hours to kill with her worst enemy. She loathed every second of their time together, wishing the clock's slowly moving hands would tick faster—as it grew harder and harder to maintain composure.

Twenty minutes ago, Blossom successfully thwarted Brick's clumsy attempt at flirting with her, and managed to silence him for the time being—except now, he was simply standing perfectly still in his place with his muscular arms over his chest, and staring at her... She could feel the intensity of his vision upon her skin, his maroon eyes heating up the peach flesh until the color deepened, turning into a soft, scarlet hue. Blossom was irritated by his burning attention as she attempted to remain perfectly collected under the pressure of his hungry gaze.

"Could you please stop looking at me like that?" the pink Powerpuff Girl patiently queried, managing somehow not to snap at him.

The left corner of his mouth curved into a nefarious half-smirk when he smugly questioned, "Looking at you like what, pretty flower?"

Blossom released a steady breath. "I believe you already know the manner in which you are staring at me."

"Do I?"

"You do."

"Hmm," the red Rowdyruff Boys murmured, tapping the center of his chin in the pretense that he deep in thought. "Is it the same way I stared at you before you cleverly foiled my plans to shred your clothes?" He arched a dark eyebrow, verbally teasing her.

"Yes," she answered, holding on to her deadpanned expression.

Oh, yes, of course she remember the exact way Brick looked at her, in between those scarce moments when their mouths separated—to take a breath or to discard an item of clothing. There was something primal in the way Brick gazed at her; _wolfish_ , Blossom supposed. The liquid-amber flecks crackled in the shimmering fire of his crimson eyes, like embers flying out from a campfire. It was as though Brick hungered for Blossom, making it his goal to devour her whole by using his hands—grazing and tracing his thick-skinned fingertips along the delicate lines of her curves—and his tongue—flickering the soft, fleshy tip against her own tongue; it was as though he burned for her, a passionate, roaring need flamed inside of Brick and he wanted to share it with Blossom.

At the time, Blossom possibly enjoyed Brick's wicked, lust-drunk gaze, but that moment had subsided.

"I can't help myself," he told her, the slightest hint of a feral growl in his voice. "It's kinda hot. I like that you deliberately got me all hot and bothered."

"You didn't make the task all that difficult," she retorted, quirking a prideful, plucked eyebrow. "I was anticipating a duel of wits versus passions."

"Can you really blame me, sugar-spice?" Brick chuckled huskily, the sound like velvet and rich chocolate. "It's not everyday the girl of my dreams walks up to me and wants to play tongue-o-war."

"Are you admitting that you like me?" Blossom inquired; her words came out in an alluring tone, which she did not mean to do. She meant to sound more curious.

"I'm the flowers and candy type, babe," Brick began, though his reply seemed more evasive than specific, "but I can't say that I'm repulsed by the fantasy of us graduating from enemies to lovers."

"It's too bad I'm repulsed just from listening to you talk about such a crass idea." It was true. There was something alien happening inside of her stomach, like a knot twisting in the very center. Blossom thought she was having a physical reaction to being disgusted, but it was the exact opposite. Her brain may have been saying one thing, but her body was intrigued.

"You can lie to yourself all you want, but at me, too, Blossom. You wanted me the way I want you," Brick masterfully countered, his grin broad and suggestive.

"Wishful thinking," Blossom replied, inwardly baffled by his solid certainty.

"Trust me. We're a disaster just waiting to happen," Brick said, his voice sure and smooth and sexy...

Again, her stomach churned in reaction to her male counterpart's statement. Blossom shifted around in her seat, ashamed and shocked by her next discovery—when she moved around, the pink Powerpuff Girl felt a slippery sensation in her panties, as well as some sort of lubricant between her nether lips.

Arousal.

She was wet.

Taking a deep breath, Blossom anxiously combed her fingers through the curled edges of her copper hair. "Do you really want to know how I feel about you, Brick?"

"I really want to know how you feel about me, Blossom," he replied, the amber flecks in his burgundy irises flickering as his pupils widened.

"I... I'm scared to death of you."


	11. That It Ended Just Fine

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me!**

 **Author's Note: A classic Disney song... "I Won't Say (I'm in Love)" from Hercules.**

* * *

 _No chance_

 _No way_

 _I won't say it_

 _No, no_

Blossom was in a particularly good mood today, feeling as though she could take on the world. So far, in the past day, the lucky Powerpuff Girl defeated two monsters before heading out to school, received a flawless streak of A's on her report card, and now she was snacking on a bag of jalapeno-cheddar flavored popcorn someone left in her locker as she walked to her third period class with her sisters. Blossom shared the savory treat with Bubbles and Buttercup, of course; the bag of popcorn was quite large and tasted homemade.

"I doubt you before, Blossom, but this stuff is pretty good," Buttercup conceded, reaching into the bag for a handful of orange-powdered popcorn.

"I told you so," Blossom said smugly, chewing on her snack. "These are even better than the ones that I get at the supermarket."

"Less greasy and more fluffy," Bubbles added, emitting a small giggle as she normally did.

Just then, Blossom felt two, quick taps on her shoulder as someone wanted her attention. Whipping her head around to look over her shoulder, her raspberry-pink eyes absorbed the sight that frequently made her stomach overflow with magical butterflies—Brick's smile. She adored how his expression resonated with pure warmth, the contagious grin mirrored on her own lips and then spread all the way to her toes. She was happy to see him, her best friend in the world.

"Hey, Blossom. I hope you like the popcorn," the red Rowdyruff said as Blossom and her sisters paused.

"They're great!" she exclaimed, her head spinning in place as she stood there and spoke to him. "Did you make them yourself?"

"Yep," Brick answered before arching a sly eyebrow. "You said that you didn't think I would be a very good cook, so I decided to accept your challenge. What better way of making you eat your own words than making your favorite snack?"

"I'm impressed with your culinary skills, Brick."

"That's cool and all, but I wanted to hear it... Those magical words."

"Hear what magical words?"

"You know."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"No. I think I've earned it."

Sighing exasperatedly, Blossom rolled her eyes and admitted, "You were right and I was wrong." What a way to ruin a perfectly good snack. "There. Are you happy now?"

"Come on, cupcake," Brick began, teasingly waggling an index finger at her, "don't be so sour-faced." He gave her a wide grin—genuine, but impish, and brushed a loose strand of golden tangerine hair behind the shell of Blossom's ear. "Are we still on for movie night?"

"Of course," the pink Powerpuff Girl nodded in confirmation, a little surprised that he felt the need to ask. "I'll pay for pizza delivery this time."

"Actually, I was thinking that we should go out for a change before we settle in to watch movies," Brick suggested, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. "There's a new Japanese place that opened a few blocks away from Mojo's not-so-secret layer."

"That sounds great, Brick. Do you want me to meet you after school?"

"Nah. It's kind of fancy, so I'll need to head home for a quick change. How about I pick you up at five?"

"I'd like that."

"Cool. I'll catch you later, gorgeous."

"See you later." Blossom waved toward him as he jogged in the same direction she and her sisters were walking, in a rush to get to class.

Finally, on their own path to class again, Bubbles and Buttercup burst out laughing.

Cocking an inquisitive eyebrow, Blossom glanced between her sisters. "What? I don't get it. What's so funny?"

"You and Brick," Buttercup chuckled heartily as tears streaked her cheeks. "I can't believe you agreed to go on a date with him! This is so hilarious!"

"What!" Blossom exclaimed incredulously and shoved the green Powerpuff's shoulders. "Don't be ridiculous. We're just friends."

"Yeah, right," Bubbles giggled, muffling the sound with a hand. "Romantic, fancy dinner, and then movies at his place... Sounds super friendly."

The eighteen year-old redhead rolled her eyes as she and her sisters reached the girls' gym, the class where they did absolutely nothing, save sit around and talk. "It's not a date... Brick and I have dinner and movie nights every Friday night, you know, to celebrate the start of the weekend."

"Uh-huh. And how often does he take you out?" Bubbles questioned, setting her backpack down on the plastic bleacher, snuggled right between her knees.

"Tonight would be the first..."

"Exactly."

"You two are losing it. It's just a nice change of pace from ordering in all the time," Blossom reasoned nonchalantly.

"Puh-lease," Buttercup said, flipping her wrist at Blossom. "Brick totally likes you and you like him!"

"Yeah," Bubbles agreed. "It's written all over your face."

"My face?" Blossom echoed skeptically. She touched her fingertips to her right cheek and instantly felt it fiery red warmth. All this talk of Brick possibly harboring a crush on her had Blossom's head in a tizzy. The thought... It was positively ridiculous. There was nothing else to it. Stupid.

"You looove him," Buttercup teased, poking Blossom's shoulder—right where Brick had tapped her.

"I do not," Blossom insisted furiously, harshly nudging Buttercup right in the gut. "I... I like Brick, but only as a friend." Granted, he was her extremely good lucking friend, but her feelings for him were _mostly_ platonic. She gazed down betwixt her feet, slightly shielding her burning cheeks with her long, chestnut hair.

"Someone's in denial!" Bubble's voice rang out in a sing-song voice. "I bet you're already sorting out what you're going to wear."

"What does that prove? Brick said it was a fancy restaurant. I don't want to show up looking like a slob," the head Powerpuff Girl rationalized, her sisters' taunts aggravating.

"I can picture it now. Imagine you and Brick sitting across from each other. A warm dinner, cozy candlelight, the whole shabang. He's got something to tell tell you. All night, he's been stuttering and sweating bullets," Buttercup rambled, grinning knowingly at Blossom—the expression broad and arrogant.

"Ooh, ooh!" Bubbles shouted, raising her hand to complete Buttercup's thoughts, "And then, Brick reaches across the table, winding his fingers through yours. He's finally worked up the nerve to confess."

"'Blossom,' he says," Buttercup continued in a mockingly deep voice, "'we've been friends for awhile now, but I have to tell you the truth. I'm sweet on you like corn on a cob.'"

She was sick of Buttercup and Buttercup's nonsense. Shaking her head to and fro, Blossom shoved her hands into Buttercup's face and forced her to fall back in between the bleacher seats. Triumphant in silencing both of her sisters, Blossom smirked in a smug fashion and then walked off, with her popcorn in two. The young teenager watched at the boys filed into the girls' gym with basketballs already dribbling. Amongst the male faces was a distinct one, a face Blossom would know anywhere. Brick spotted Blossom instantly, in return, and waved at her. Butch and Boomer furrowed their eyebrows and elbowed their brother. Brick barely seemed to notice as Blossom returned his friendly gesture.

Friendly. Friend. They were just friends, who happened to enjoy looking nice for each other and watching movies.

Sitting back down—far, far away from her bothersome siblings—Blossom perched her chin between her palms and sighed softly to herself, then began to wonder if the night would play out the way she sort of hoped it would.

 _Give up_

 _Or give in_

 _Check the grin_

 _You're in love_


	12. Inhale

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.**

 **Author's Note: This chapter was partially inspired by season one Cory and Topanga from Boy Meets World. Another song from Big Time Rush, "Paralyzed."**

* * *

 _I try to speak_

 _But, girl, you got me tongue-tied_

 _I try to speak_

 _But I'm fr-fr-frozen inside_

 _I try to move_

 _But I'm stuck in my shoes_

 _Got me paralyzed_

 _Paralyzed by you_

Inhaling deeply, Brick tried to concentrate on his target—a small soda can sitting atop a boulder. For the past hour and a half, the tin object had been taunting the head Rowdyruff Boy, practically laughing in his face, despite his determined efforts in moving the damn the thing.

"Okay, Brick, you got this," he told himself, in dire need of some pep talk.

Glowering at the soda can with his eyes blazing fury-red, Brick concentrated all the force of his mind to try and knock the object over, even just a little bit. An anxious gust of wind flowed over the ground, rising with the dirt and the dust, and yet the can remained perfectly in place. Frustrated, Brick lowered his dark eyebrows at the can before quickly collecting himself. Again, the red Rowdyruff attempted to move the can by simply glaring at the damned thing—since this seemed to be his new ability—but the stubborn thing wouldn't budge.

Stupid powers. Why couldn't he get this right?

Turning around slowly and then quickly turning back around, Brick thought he could startle the dumb thing into flying across the other side of the clearing. Nope. Then, he stomped on the ground, hoping the vibrations of the earth would assist his powers along, but again, nothing happened. Well, a leaf did pluck itself off a tree branch, but that's not quite what Brick was aiming for.

"Hey, Brick!" Blossom waved at her Rowdyruff counterpart from her spot in the sky.

Startled by the sudden greeting, Brick's mind finally tossed the soda can up in the air, making it fly toward the pink Powerpuff Girl. The foil mechanism popped open, the carbonated content ready to ruin her freshly-pressed uniform. Blossom didn't seem to worried as she blew out a puffy breath, turning the black splashes into sharp icicles.

Floating down to stand, Blossom quirked a deadpanned eyebrow at the red Rowdyruff Boy. "I suppose I should have expected a cold greeting from you."

Expelling a weary laugh, the ginger-haired teenage boy nervously scratched the back of his neck. "My bad, Blossom. I'm really sorry."

"No harm done," she shrugged nonchalantly. "I came by to see if you wanted some help with your new power."

"Nah. I'm done for the day," he said crossly.

"Don't discourage yourself, Brick. You'll figured it out eventually," Blossom retorted, wanting to show him some support to hopefully lift his slightly downtrodden spirits.

Sighing to keep the impatience out of his tone, Brick sat down on the boulder and crossed his arms. "It's too hard. My other abilities work just fine. Why can't I master telekinesis?"

"It's brand new. It'll take some time for you to get it down, but you will," Blossom answered optimistically, standing before him with a content simper draped across her pretty lips.

"No offense, Blossom, but you're kind of perfect," Brick grumbled bitterly, though there was a phantom of a flirtatious smirk creeping on the left side of his mouth. "You do everything right the first time."

Blossom's strawberry-pink eyes shifted downward to her newly polished, black shoes, as a shy, cherry-colored blush inflamed her peach cheeks. "Um, well..." she replied bashfully, taken aback by his former remark, "it took my years before I could channel my ice breath whenever I wanted."

"Really?" Brick asked incredulously, arching an eyebrow. "What took you so long?"

"My ice breath worked whenever I needed to, like during a hot summer's day or if I somehow ended up in a desert," Blossom explained, sitting on the boulder adjacent to Brick, their bodies looped together as she looped her arm through his. Immediately, the boulder began to levitate, but only a few feet above the ground before it slammed back down. Releasing a bubbly giggle from her system, Blossom said, "Your telekinesis seems to work when you're nervous."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I still want my personal space respected."

Complying to his wish, the pink Puff scooted over. "At least you know what your trigger is now."

"Maybe... Let's try it out," Brick said, motioning for his female opposite to get up. "All I have to do is make myself nervous."

"You can do it, Brick," Blossom encouraged him as she walked a couple of feet away from him, allowing her counterpart to gain some focus.

Popping his knuckles, Brick focused on the boulder, trying to think of something that would make him unquestionably nervous. He imagined Butch's morning body odor and how the putrid stench of his brother pervaded their living quarters until he finally took his shower for the day—but that made Brick feel more nauseous than nervous. The red Rowdyruff Boy thought of those long, harsh nights that arrived annually with the end of every summer vacation, the night before school started, and how it aggravated him to no end to wake up the next morning—to rinse, wash, and repeat for the next nine months; however, that didn't exactly make him nervous either.

So, what would make the leader of the Rowdyruff Boys nervous? It was nearly impossible to figure out on his own. Brick wasn't suppose to be nervous over anything. He was meant to be fearless, brave, and even merciless at times.

Just then, like a divine sign from the universe, a soothing breeze began to blow in Brick's direction, the scent filled with sugary vanilla and ripe strawberries, resonating from where Blossom stood. Brick glanced to his side, directly at her, for a moment as the wind flowed through her tendrils of autumn-red. Blossom's impressive irises of magenta locked with Brick's wine-red ones; the corners of her mouth raised into a brilliant smile, putting the tangerine sun to shame. Brick was frozen in place, as his heartbeat clammered and roared like thunderclouds. The next thing he knew, Blossom's head twisted in the direction of the boulder and then back at Brick.

"You did it!" Blossom exclaimed cheerfully, running to stand by him.

"Did what?" Brick inquired in perplexity of her abrupt excitement. "What did I do?"

Blossom gently grabbed Brick's chin and aimed his sights on the boulder, which had soared all the way to the opposite end of the field, now laying in piles of stand as though it had been so simple to break all along. Wow. He didn't even realize that the stupid thing had moved at all.

How did he do that?

"That was a spectacular display of your telekinesis, Brick! Well done!" Blossom shouted, quite proud of her good friend. Joyously, she bounced up and down, using Brick's upper arm for balance.

Automatically, the pink Powerpuff Girl and the red Rowdyruff Boy raised their hands to share a celebratory high-five; but as soon as their hands collided, a vindictive soda popsicle knocked poor Brick in the back of the head.


	13. Breathe Steady

**Disclaimer: The following characters are not my property.**

 **Author's Note: Yet another installment in the Br/Bl break-up series. The good news is that the next update is written and waiting to be typed. The bad news is that I probably won't upload it until next Thursday or Friday, as I have a busy week coming up. (I just turned twenty-one this week, but I'm celebrating it with my friends next weekend!) Plus, I still have more content for you lovely reviewers. I even have a Halloween semi-crossover that you'll either love, hate, or be seriously confused by.**

 **Author's Note #2: "Killer" by the Ready Set.**

* * *

 _Stuck in a limbo_

 _Here we go_

 _Me and my sins go toe-to-toe_

 _I played a vicious part_

 _I've broken my share of hearts_

Spotting his ex-girlfriend sitting on a tree stump somewhere in the outskirts of Townsville, Brick felt his whole, entire self jolt with hope—hoping for grand, new possibilities and a fresh start. A second chance. He landed a couple of feet away from her, somewhat out of breath from flying as fast as he could. Cocking her head to side, Blossom patiently gave Brick a moment to catch his breath. Her expression appeared neutral—not happy, angry, nor sad, definitely not the face of someone, he assumed, who was just as eager to get rekindle their watered down flame.

"Hey, Blossom," Brick greeted the pink Powerpuff Girl, fishing a neon-green sticky note out of his denim-jean pocket. "Is this your note?"

Quirking a seemingly suspicious eyebrow, Blossom inquired, "What does the note say?"

"Um... You wanted us to meet out here after school..." he answered sheepishly, noticing the shortness of her tone.

"And here I am," Blossom said, gesturing to the beautiful scenery around them.

The red Rowdyruff and the pink Powerpuff Girl were surrounded by trees, in the middle of a meadow with all species of flowers—sunflowers, dandelions, blue bonnets, lilies, and such. For certain, they were in a romantic setting as the cool breeze whistled through the leaves on the tall trees. The sun was an hour away from setting, the sky layered with tangerine-orange, golden yellow, fading blue, and blush-pink; it was beautiful and amazing, the perfect background to have a reunion of incredible colors, after several months of mundane whites, blacks, and grays. Blossom was the only person in the world that renewed the brilliant colors in Brick's world. And he had missed the countless tints, shades, and hues so much. He missed her.

After a moment passed where Blossom said nothing at all, appearing to scrutinize him from her place on the tree stump, Brick cleared his throat and spoke, "Look, Blossom, I'm really glad you wanted to meet up. I've been miserable, honestly, and I know that I acted like a jerk to you, but I promise to make it up to you."

Blossom stood up swiftly, her hands clenched in fists at her sides. She opened up her mouth as if to finally say something, but decided to give her ex-boyfriend a deep, aggressive glare.

The Rowdyruff Boy didn't understand why she was upset; and if he were smarter, he would have known to get far, far away from her, instead of step closer. "What's wrong?" Brick asked, slowly reaching toward her.

Instantly drawing back from him as though it were instinctual, Blossom practically seethed at him, "Berserk told me what you did."

"Oh," was all he could say. What else could he say?

Shaking her head to and fro in total, utter disbelief, the corners of the teenage redhead's mouth curved up, then down. "How could you hurt her so bad?"

"I didn't know what I was doing, okay? You broke my heart, Blossom, and I didn't know what else to do," Brick explained, fully aware that he would never be able to justify his actions to Blossom when he could barely justify them to himself. "I was mean and selfish and stupid. I admit that. I let my grief control me."

"And you spread that grief like a plague, Brick. Your hurt someone else, all because of your own crap—again. You did it to me and you did it to Berserk." Tightly, Blossom pursed her lips as her strawberry-pink eyes glazed over with a light layer of tears. "Do you hurt every single girl that falls in love with you by accident or are you just super talented at it?"

"I'm sorry, Blossom, for being so dumb. I know I keep messing up-" Before Brick could finish his sentence, he was suddenly planted in a divot in the ground, after his ex-girlfriend used her enhanced strength to push him down.

"I find it extremely hard to believe that you ever had a heart to break," she called to him, then jumped in the hole to join the Rowdyruff. She grabbed Brick by the collar of his red tee shirt and kneed him in the center of his chest. "You heartless bastard."

And just like that, Brick succumbed to his primordial instincts.

Two, bright red beams of light blasted from his palms, flinging the leader of the Powerpuff Girls back in the air. He grunted as he quickly stood up, then launched himself into the sky. Blossom shot light pink rays from her eyes, but Brick easily dodged her attack. Yanking her by the arm, the Rowdyruff Boy flung her backward over his shoulder, then forward—causing Blossom to dive into a family of treetops. Swiftly, she recovered, her uniform slightly torn at the waistline; gripped between her hands was a long branch she had fallen into as she swung it in her ex-boyfriend's stupid face, smashing her heel into his kneecap. In retaliation, Brick grabbed Blossom by the shoulders and threw her body straight down like an arrow, into a rocky hill between the trees, a mine perhaps.

He expected Blossom to come shooting back up, but she never did. Carefully, he floated into the dark cave, listening in case she tried to ambush him, but she had no intention of doing so.

When Brick finally found her, she was on her hands and knees, out of breath and panting. "You..." Blossom snarled, glaring up him with tears staining the whites of her eyes pink. "All I wanted to do was love you, but you always set me aside. Why couldn't you love me?" She got up and smashed Brick against the cave wall, streaked with a red liquid, but Brick, again, fought back.

Strangely enough, however, neither of them could access their powers, and resorted to relying on mere physical strength. They wrestled, kicked, pushed, punched, and pulled at one another, shaking the cave walls with each slam into the ground.

Their only clear way out was if they climbed up.

"Damn it, Blossom!" Brick thundered aggravatedly at her. Pinned down beneath her knees, he kicked her over him.

The back of her head collided with the wall, forcing her to fall into unconsciousness. In the same moment, boulders began to roll and crumble from their crevices, piling on top of each other. Instinctively, Brick peeled Blossom from the ground, her body limp and bruised as he hid them both in a safe, little corner. He cradled her close to his chest, slightly hunching over to protect her head from the tumbling stones.

Eventually, the rock slide came to a stop, but their way out was sealed off.

They were trapped.

 _I'm no good for you_

 _This heart ain't built for two_

 _So, run away_

 _Run away_


	14. Exhale

**Disclaimer: The following characters do not belong to me. Except for the wee tot. Only my brain could make up a petname so, well, babyish.**

 **Author's Note: "Lavender's Blue (Dilly Dilly)" from Disney's Cinderella (2015). Don't see it, by the way. It's total crap, but the soundtrack is good.**

 **Author's Note to Aaron Jaeger: I have been taking your suggestions into consideration, but ultimately I have to let the characters take the story line where it's meant to. I wasn't originally going to incorporate their powers or even have them physically fight, but this version of Blossom seems to have had enough of Brick's crap. She was all right with their break-up before Berserk spilled the beans, but something inside her heart finally snapped—whether it was out of empathy for her Powerpunk opposite or her own selfish reasons. This Blossom is definitely made out of ice and stone—more so than I think the original/canon Blossom—while Brick is more inspired by Prince Zuko from Avatar, meaning that his mistakes continue to repeat.**

 **Will they work out their differences?**

 **I don't even know yet.**

* * *

 _Lavender's blue, dilly dilly_

 _Lavender's green_

 _When I am king, dilly dilly_

 _You shall be queen_

 _Who told you so, dilly dilly_

 _Who told you so?_

 _'Twas my own heart, dilly dilly_

 _That told me so_

He was obsessed with her, absolutely, positively smitten with every, little thing she did. The very thought of her warmed his heart in an alien way, though simultaneously welcome; exciting. He had never experienced this kind of joy before, beaming elation piled on top of curious wonderment.

There were so many things that he understood now, such as why, as a youth, he seemed to mess up time and time again, but he now realized that he needed to screw up in order to learn and grow. Yet, there were still a great many things he was still ignorant of, like what to do when he inevitably had to share her with other men, which filled him with heart-racing anxiety. But he supposed there were just some things some people learned on the job—as the years passed. Still, nothing could overshadow this brand new feeling of warmth and amazement.

"She is gorgeous, isn't she?" Blossom, Brick's wife, sighed lovingly as she stood on the opposite side of their four day-old's crib. "I can't get enough of her little face."

Brick nodded as his Valentine-colored gaze stayed glued to the pink bundle—fascinated with each breath she emitted, and humored by her little snores. "I still can't believe that we created her."

"I can..." Blossom replied, reaching one arm into the crib and cautiously ghosted her fingertips over the baby girl's soft ringlets of copper-gold. "She's the spitting image of you."

"No way. That's all you," Brick retorted, distinctly recalling that their daughter's eyes were identical to Blossom's; their irises shared that same, unforgettable shade of fuchsia, as well as scarlet rings outlining their pupils. His girls had the most dazzling pair of eyes in the world. When their daughter first opened her startling eyes, Brick couldn't keep his own violet-red eyes from shedding a few tears—his heart swelling with pride and love for his baby girl.

"Maybe I'm bias, but I think that she's the cutest baby ever," Blossom said, tenderly brushing her bent knuckles over the resting baby's pudgy, pink cheeks.

"Nah. I'm with you." His baby girl was a perfect, little princess.

"Bubbles told me that she and Buttercup have a wager going on with your brothers."

"Over what?"

Slightly quirking an amused eyebrow, a curious smirk played at the sharp corners of her mouth as Blossom answered, "Bubbles and Buttercup think she's say, 'Momma,' first while Butch and Boomer put their money on her saying, 'Daddy' first."

Daddy... Brick couldn't wait until she started talking, anticipating what kind of things she would say. He definitely looked forward to the day when she finally learned how to say 'Daddy,' somehow knowing exactly who he was to her—how deep their bond as father and daughter went. Brick imagined that day might actually make him cry again, but that was months from now. He was excited.

Fussing ever-so softly, the newborn began to stir, awoken from her nap by the murmurs of her mother and father, who hearts melted all over again. Brick could feel his cheeks begin to ache from grinning so much, as she glanced between him and Blossom.

"Good afternoon, baby Rose!" Blossom cooed at her baby, carefully lifting the gurgling bundle from her crib. "Momma and Daddy missed you so much!"

Rose squealed in response; although she was unable to yet comprehend the words being spoken to her, she could still understand the loving tone of her mother's soft, sweet voice—a voice she knew too well—and she was elated to see both of her parents.

"We missed those pretty eyes of yours, too," Brick added, taking his turn to cradle the infant. "Rosie-Posie-Ravioli," he murmured, unable to stifle the ridiculous pet name. The Rowdyruff Boy in him internally groaned, but the geeky dad in him demanded it be said.

Giggling lightly, Blossom kissed her husband on the cheek. "Rosie-Posie-Ravioli. That's cute."

She was kind of making fun of him, but Brick didn't care. He had a family now. His own little garden of pretty flowers.


	15. Like You're Ready

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.**

 **Author's Note. "Every Me, Every You," by Placebo.**

 **Buckle up, reviewers. This one's a doozy.**

* * *

 _In the shape of things to come_

 _Too much poison come undone_

 _'Cause there's nothing else to do_

 _Every me and every you_

Up until two weeks ago, Blossom was tutoring Eliot Littlefield in English AP, to help the star quarterback keep up his grades, so that the coach wouldn't kick him off the football team. Eliot wasn't much for brains, but he still had a way with people. He got along fine with just about everyone; they gravitated to his good-natured humor and excellent charm. Except Brick. The red Rowdyruff had an eye for assholes—suspecting all along that Eliot was some sort of wolf in sheep's clothing. Blossom had been warned, though—by Princess—that her jock boyfriend was a man of many faces; shady. They dated for almost three months, starring as Pokey Oaks High School's power couple.

But then all hell broke loose. Eliot had been cheating on the Townsville sweetheart all along, making fun of her with Princess behind her back. He'd even gone as far to leak pictures of Blossom naked to his friends; granted, the nude images were photoshopped (with Blossom's head on several porn models), but that fact didn't keep the series of pictures from spreading like wildfire to every student, teacher, faculty member, and parent. Even random people outside of the high school community caught wind of the photos. In a matter of minutes, Blossom went from being everyone's favorite superhero to being a super slut, all because she dated a sleaze.

Up until two weeks ago, Blossom had a perfect attendance record.

"It's her own damn fault," Princess remarked with a snide laugh, surrounded by her posse of mooching, materialistic zombies, or rather paid friends. "I warned her not to date Eliot."

"Stupid slut," one of the brain-dead zombies snickered, speaking in a stereotypical valley girl accent.

"It's okay, though," Princess continued, her smile knowing and carefree like the Cheshire cat. "Blossom definitely paid the price for not following my wise advice..."

"Looks like Prince Charming turned out to be more conniving than you."

"Yeah, right. Who do you think put him up to it?" Princess opened her compact mirror, smearing lipgloss all over her mouth. "Eliot is a talented kisser, but he is two light-bulbs short of a chandelier. I'm the brains."

The leader of the Rowdyruff Boys couldn't bite his tongue anymore. "Would you shut the fuck up already?" he snapped at the talkative, prissy socialite brat. She was spewing so much shit, he thought that she was literally talking out of her stupid ass.

"What's the matter, Brick?" Princess questioned sardonically, motioning for her friends to go back to their assigned seats. "Aren't you pleased that goody-good Powderpuff got what was coming to her?"

Scoffing loudly, Brick clenched his fingertips deep into his palm to keep himself from slapping the bitch in the middle of class. "Why would your cunt behavior please anyone, who narcissistic bitch?" Brick knew that he wasn't the classiest guy around, but he typically refrained from the using the C-word on a frequent basis, as that was straight up white trash language. But fuck it. 'Cunt' totally applied to Princess.

"Are you kidding me?" Princess laughed at Brick, sincerely bemused by his agitated behavior. "You should be delighted. Blossom is too distraught and too pathetic to fight you now."

Princess Morbucks was unbelievable—a downright twat, but Brick didn't care. She would eventually be proven wrong. Blossom had more fight in her than Princess realized.

. . .

There were times where Blossom felt like her shoulders were being crushed under the weight of the universe, as her knees violently trembled in attempt to maintain physical balance—to balance out her weight as well as keep her face steady and calm; neutral. Never mind the inside, where her inner strength was scattered in shambles in the acid-filled pit of her stomach. At first, Blossom found herself wishing upon a star that her insides would match her outsides, the way she could crumble away with the shallowest of breezes.

It would be so simple.

Did they think it was easy? Did they think being the fearless leader of the Powerpuff Girls was always fun? Did they think planning out every move and strategizing every breath was simple? Did they think she enjoyed studying on top of everything else and always keeping with up with A+ streak?

God forbid she slip up even the tiniest bit, because everyone knew that the world would just fall to pieces. If Blossom ever displayed hesitance or any sigh of fear, it was always, 'Come on, you big chicken!' from Buttercup. If she ever made one mistep or miscalculation during battle, it was always, 'Ooh-ooh, I guess you're not so smart after, huh, Blossom?' from Bubbles. Or if she ever brought one failing grade home after a full day of fighting the forces of evil, it was always, 'I know you can do better, Blossom. You'll have to try harder next time, Blossom,' from the professor.

Try, try, try. Try harder. How much harder was she supposed to try? Blossom poured her best efforts into whatever she was doing and never once lacked to the determination to succeed. Sometimes, achieving perfection was just out of her grasp.

How were her efforts rewarded in the end?

They all laughed at her.

Of course, Blossom didn't blame herself at all. Not even a tiny bit about what eventually transpired. Eliot was always endearing—sending her good morning texts, holding her hand whenever they went to the movie theater, kissing her in the rain, and leaving love letters inside of her locker. Yeah. Eliot was a good boyfriend, or so Blossom was led to believe. She couldn't have known that their entire relationship was an elaborate hoax—just a prank to inevitably humiliated her. Blossom didn't blame herself, because, in spite of what the rest of the world seemed to think, she did nothing wrong. She just fell in love—granted, it was definitely with the wrong guy. She didn't know Eliot and Princess would be callous enough to share bogus nude pictures of her; she didn't know those fake photographs would be posted online; she didn't know Harvard, Yale, Princeton, and Notre Dame would reject her college applications as a result. But Princess and Eliot knew. They knew the entire school would revolt against Pokey Oaks' star pupil while her entire future was demolished.

Blossom blamed everyone else.

Stewing in her own thoughts within the comfort of her bed, Blossom was snapped out of contemplation when she heard her window sliding open.

"Brick," the pink Powerpuff Girl whispered, pleasantly surprised to see her new friend. "You should be in school."

"Nah," Brick replied nervously as his counterpart arose from bed, dressed in a slightly revealing scarlet-red nightgown; it was lacy, too. "Princess was being lame, so I bailed. I thought I should see how you're holding up."

Nodding softly as she crossed her arms, Blossom answered, "I've stopped being sad... I'm angry now."

"That's healthy," Brick replied, somewhat responsible for Blossom's emotional transition.

After the naked picture incident, Brick and Blossom struck up an unlikely friendship. For the past two weeks, Brick had gotten Blossom through a lot—staying up with her during all hours of the night. He coached her through the gut-wrenching sadness, always offering kind and sympathetic words. Thanks to Brick, Blossom shifted the blame away from herself, toward the people who were actually responsible for breaking her spirit.

"I..." Blossom trailed off anxiously, chewing on her bottom lip. "I can't continue protecting a city that no longer thinks of me as a hero. I can't even go for a walk without being ridiculed or shamed by a stranger. Even Miss Bellum presumes to be disappointed in me..."

All of her life, Blossom protected the citizens of Townsville from monsters, villains, robbers, and thugs. She was born to be a hero; to be honest, she wasn't aware of any other life outside putting others needs before her own. She knew of no other destiny, or freewill, outside of the one decided for her. Without fail, Blossom and her sisters always saved the day. But now, the people she swore to protect—the people she loved—laughed in her face or lectured her.

How could everyone be so ungrateful?

Brick smirked ever-so slightly. "My offer is still open. There is a spare room for you if you want it. Mi casa es su casa."

"I want to go with you," Blossom answered in acceptance of his invitation. "I can't do it anymore. I'm doing being a Powerpuff Girl."

"Perfect," the Rowdyruff Boy commented, a cake-eating grin melting across his mouth.

. . .

"Wow," Blossom gasped, placing down her suitcase—gawking at the Rowdyruff Boy's mansion, secluded in a quaint ravine. They lived in an absolute dream—two stories of pure paradise. "I didn't know siding with Him could have these kinds of advantages."

"Yep, Brick retorted, popping the 'p.' "Oh, by the way, I have a cool housewarming gift for you in your room. Wanna see?"

"I'd love to!"

With that, Brick gently led Blossom by the hand up to show her new bedroom. It definitely had the makings of a typical, ordinary bedroom—white walls, a cozy bed in the very center, a walk-in closet, a dresser, a desk, a laptop, and nightstand. However, there was one thing out of place—or rather, two people that didn't belong anywhere near the now former Powerpuff Girl. Princess and Eliot were bound together—layers of rope tied up around their wrists and ankles on Blossom's new mattress, leaving wrinkles in the covers.

Stupefied by the crime scene just waiting to happen, Blossom glanced to her side at Brick. Shock was written all of her face. "What have you done?" Blossom questioned, unable to shake the surprise from her voice.

"Do you like your gift?" Brick asked, casually leaning against the door frame with a glint of malice shimmering in his ruby irises.

"Thank God!" Eliot exclaimed in relief.

"We're saved!" Princess shouted, aware that a Powerpuff Girl's nature was to save the innocent and never punish the guilty.

Ignoring Eliot and Princess momentarily, Blossom's expression of utter stupefaction into one of childish, malevolent glee. "You got me two pinatas, Brick, but you forget a baseball bat."

"Why don't you use your fists?" Brick suggested. He stood behind Blossom, stepping fluidly, and smoothly slid his long, nimble digits along her knuckles, then balled both of her hands into tight, relentless fights. "I think you'll find they're more effective for getting out all the candy than a stupid bat."

"Good idea," the first ever Rowdyruff Girl murmured giddily, as she strode toward her trembling presents.


	16. If You're Ready or Not

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me!**

 **Author's Note: Yay! I'm a day early! Enjoy! "Cry Wolf" by Bebe Rexha.**

* * *

 _When your heart has turned to stone_

 _When the things we weren't meant to see_

 _Are all that you know_

 _Too late to sell back the lies_

 _And the dreams that you were sold_

 _So sick of your crooked smile_

 _And your counterfeit soul_

The pink Powerpuff Girl groaned exhaustedly, the back of her head throbbing tightly as she reluctantly submitted herself to consciousness. Her bubblegum-pink eyes were fixated on the cold ground, slowly registering that the shapes of the floor were moving passed her. Her body was floating of its own accord. Blossom groaned again, shaking her head in small motions as she tried to remember what the hell happened to her... She managed to remember Brick and fighting with him; he shoved her into a series of tunnels, their rocky walls coated in a red substance; they were both powerless; and then there was some sort of collapse—a rock slide. After that, everything went dark.

Wait.

Hold on.

Was she actually trapped inside of a cave with Brick? Ugh... No. Blossom had only been awake for less than a minute. There had to be a better, happier explanation.

"Wh-What's going on?" she coughed, finally realizing that her ex-boyfriend was carrying her piggy back style.

"We brought our filled into a mine filled with crimanthiumite," Brick answered, using a flashlight app on his cellphone to navigate them through the hollow darkness.

"Crimanthiumite..." Blossom softly echoed, the name familiar. "That's the main ingredient in Antidote X, isn't it?"

"Yep."

"Does that mean that we've lost our powers?"

"I don't think so, since we haven't actually absorbed any of it. We just can't access our abilities while we're here."

"Great," Blossom retorted facetiously, disengaging her legs from Brick's hips. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she felt a spell of dizziness rush over her brain.

Brick quickly turned around and gripped his hands around her waist, holding her steady. "Hey, take it easy. You suffered a nasty hit to the head."

"Thank you, but I'm perfectly fine," Blossom replied coldly and dismissively brushed his hands away from her sore body. "I don't need your help."

"Right," Brick retorted sardonically. "Just keep up."

"Fine."

"Fine."

" _Fine_."

Emitting one, frustrated huff of air, Brick allowed Blossom have the last word, figuring they shouldn't waste their breath.

And so, the red Rowdyruff Boy and the pink Powerpuff Girl directed their way through the varying tunnels in complete silence. There were a few maps posed to the walls of the caves, helping them find a few different entrances and exits, though all turned out to be sealed or blocked off. Apparently, the mines were just an accident waiting to happen, and then Brick and Blossom did happen. Their feet were starting the get sore after wandering around for two hours—without cellphone service. They were trapped like a pair of rodents, but at least they were together.

There was no point in walking anymore, so they decided that it was best to take a break. Blossom and Brick found a couple of sticks randomly laying around the caves and built a fire to keep themselves warm—sitting around with nothing to say to each other, too stubborn or too proud to break the silence.

Of course, Blossom knew that she was the biggest offender and the most devoted of maintaining the piercing silence between herself and Brick, furious and repulsed with him. Hurt by him. Blossom could accept Brick's rebound relationship with Princess, very much in spite of the rich girl wanting to rub it in the Powerpuff Girl's face; she could accept that her own relationship with Brick was minimized to a few accidental acknowledgments in the hallways here and there. What Blossom could not accept, not tolerate, however, was that Brick just had to drag Berserk into their tangled web of broken promises and broken hearts—Brick just had to make another, poor girl fall head over heels in love with him, and he just had to break someone else's heart. Her mind mind was clouded with sadness and hate and resentment.

And jealousy.

Although, Blossom was revolted by herself for even thinking it—for even letting the thought enter her mind as Berserk sobbed on her shoulder—but Blossom was insulted by the very idea that Brick could want to replace Blossom without any remorse, as if it were so damn easy for him—as if all those long nights of trading secrets and those early mornings of warm, giddy showers amounted to nothing important. Just sex. Was that what Brick thought love was? Did he love her only because she was a good screw?

Brick was the first silence. "Want some?" he offered, digging out an unopened packet of beef jerky.

"No, I'm not hungry," Blossom replied shortly, huddling her knees all the way to her chin. She stared blankly at the dancing flames of the roaring fire, the only thing keeping her entertained.

"You should eat some, Blossom," Brick said, prodding the bag in her direction. "Just because you're pissed at me doesn't mean that you should starve yourself."

"I'll be okay. Grease really isn't a food group anyway," Blossom responded, disinterested in anything he had to say. She shoved the meat bag away from herself in rejection of Brick's consideration.

"Are you kidding me?" Brick scoffed bitterly. "I could have lat that rock slide turn you into a pile of flesh and bones. I could have left you to die. I could have not come after you at all."

"Life is full of regrets," the Powerpuff Girl retorted, refusing to even look at him. "Now you'll know what to do next time—if either of us is fortunate enough to have a next time, that is."

"I don't regret saving you," Brick started, positively incredulous of her attitude, "but you could at least acknowledge that I exist." It wasn't as though he expected her undying gratitude.

"Oh, you mean like how you acknowledged me when we were still together?" she questioned ironically, her tone seething with pure venom.

"Blossom," the Rowdyruff Boy hissed impatiently. "Okay. I get it. I messed up."

"A lot," Blossom amended, crossly lowering an eyebrow.

"A lot," Brick added apologetically, "but I want to keep us both alive."

"What? Do you think that I don't know that?" Blossom blinked, finally casting the ire of her fuschia-colored gaze toward her douchebag ex-boyfriend. "Do you think of me as some sort of bimbo?"

"What? Where the hell did you get that from?" Brick inquired, befuddled by her apparent conclusion. "Seriously?"

"I don't know, Brick. I kind of figured when you used Berserk as some sort of sex doll to take my place," Blossom laughed humorlessly, rolling her eyes. "I just... I just don't get it. Why? Why would you do such a horrible thing over and over again?"

Expelling an exasperated sigh as he tossed a pebble into the fire, Brick answered, "I can barely explain it to myself. Maybe it's just my nature to be destructive."

"I wanted to help you," Blossom said, shrugging—admitting her defeat. "I loved you, Brick. I loved you so much."

"I know. I loved you, too. I haven't stopped loving you," Brick confessed, grimacing at her with a pained expression written across his facial features; crestfallen.

"You already said so, Brick, but you expected me to rely on the words of a drunken fool. _You_ turned my love for you against me, time and time again, and you turned that love I felt so strongly for you into hate. You destroyed the reality of us, and then you destroyed then the memories." Blossom shook her head to and from in disappointment, adding some tinder to keep the fire going. "The tragic reality is that we might die trapped in here together, but I guess that I don't want to die mad, even if you deserve it."

"We might as well get everything off our chest now."

"Okay."


	17. Just a Boy

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.**

 **Author's Note: "Discord" by Living Tombstone.**

* * *

 _I'm not a fan of puppeteer_

 _But I have a nagging fear_

 _That someone else is pulling all the strings_

"Brick...?" Blossom called out to her husband softly, her footsteps light and cautious as she entered their bedroom. She found him sitting on the left corner of the bed; his elbows were perched on top of his kneecaps, his face buried between his sweat-drenched palms. "Brick, what's wrong?" she asked, crawling onto the mattress. She began massaging his shoulders in attempt to console and calm him. "Brick, talk to me... What happened to you back there?"

"Get away from me!" he bellowed monstrously—the sound feral—in a strange voice that was not his own, as he violently pushed the Powerpuff Girl away from him. As soon as his wife collided against the dresser, Brick was snapped back into his senses. "Blossom! Oh, my god! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she grunted, more dismayed and concerned over his actions than hurt. "You haven't pushed me like that since we were teenagers..."

"I pushed you?" Brick questioned, an expression of pure horror darkening his face. "I didn't even realize..."

"What do you mean?" Blossom asked.

"I mean... I don't know," the red Rowdyruff Boy answered, helping Blossom off the floor. "After the fight, I was blacking out..."

It was one of the scariest things that ever happened to him. Brick and his brothers were fighting alongside the Powerpuff Girls, all six individuals working to defeat Him. As lobster demon retreated, Brick felt himself fading in and out of consciousness, his mind tried to secure a grip on staying away, but he was powerless to fight against the drowsy sensation ringing throughout his body. His eyelids drooped closed, his minding falling into a black, dreamless abyss.

"The next thing I knew, I was here."

"Brick, you didn't black out," Blossom replied sheepishly, hesitant to continue. "It's like you were a completely different person."

He didn't like the sound of that. "What... What did I do?"

"You started using your powers to hurt innocent civilians. You tore up roads and threw cars. Butch and Boomer tried to snap you out of it while my sisters and I had to protect everyone else from you..." Blossom trailed out, not wanting to hurt him with her statement or make him feel at fault, especially if he wasn't even aware of what was happening at the time.

"Go on," the lead Rowdyruff prodded gently. "I need to know what happened."

"Your eyes... Your pupils stretched vertically. You fought off your brothers quite easily, and then I followed you all the way here," Blossom finished, the two sitting on the bed together.

"I can't believe it," Brick whispered, terrified by the fact that he couldn't even remember going on a random rampage. "Was anyone hurt?"

"No," she responded. Thankfully, her magenta orbs met his plum-brandy ones; she was telling the truth.

But then, Brick noticed that his beloved wife's shoulder was badly injured. Blood seeped from the slit of her skin, staining the pink strap of her Powerpuff Girl uniform. She must have gotten hurt when he all but ragdolled her into the dresser. " _You're_ hurt."

Blossom glanced at her shoulder. "It's just a scratch." She raised a hand to touch the fresh wound, but then immediately retracted when the slightest brush of a fingertip felt more like a bee sting.

"What have I done?" Brick queried. A pang of fear churned through his stomach as Blossom winced sharply. More than anything, he regretted that she got hurt in the midst of his lunacy. Damn it, he harmed his own wife; he was a wife beater. "Jesus, Blossom, I'm so sorry! I-"

"Oh, hush," the pink Powerpuff Girl insisted, offering him a sincere smile. It was a nice enough gesture, but it did nothing to comfort him. "I'm okay, Brick."

"I'm not okay!" Brick withdrew from the bed and away from her, frustrated with everything. Confused. "I hurt you!"

"I..." Blossom paused. She couldn't exactly justify what he had done, but she was suspicious nonetheless—she didn't truly believe Brick, in his right mind, would have laid a finger on her. "I think it was just a glitch. You know, a part of you reverted back to your original decent for a moment there."

"You mean back when I was angry at the world and wanted to punish it for my problems?" Back when beating up the Powerpuff Girls was the biggest rush; back when he felt a jolt of excitement when he saw his lovely counterpart covered in bruises that he had left on her flawless skin. "I'm turning back into a monster."

"No!" Blossom exclaimed. "You faltered."

"I tried to hurt innocent people."

"Look, we'll go to the professor's house tomorrow. He can run some tests."

"Sure, sure..."

"Let's just forget about it for now."

"Yeah. Sounds good."

Granted, Brick would have preferred seeing Professor Utonium right away, but he was off visiting a colleague somewhere in the Pacific Northwest.

. . .

"I don't understand. Why don't you want to talk about it?" Blossom yelled, her behavior that of a nagging shrew as she stalked her husband around the house.

"Because," Brick began, his tone stern and dark, "you were the one that said we should just forget about, so I want to do just that. Forget about it."

"But I am trying to figure out the root of the problem."

"What the hell happened to your 'glitch' theory?"

"I'm not so sure now."

"Forget it. I'm not one of your science experiments."

Blossom yanked Brick by the forearm, demanding that he at least face her as they wandered into the garage. "I can't exactly have you hurting anymore innocent people, Brick. What if you're becoming too dangerous?"

"What the hell am I supposed to do?" Brick shouted, irrationally annoyed by her incessant nagging. He felt as though he might explode.

"We could lock you," Blossom suggested.

"In a jail cell?"

"Yes..."

All of a sudden, all Brick could see was red, the very image of Blossom flashing in and out of sight as she provoked him. He was incredulous at her awful solution. How could she suggest that he should be caged up like some rogue animal? "Go to hell!"

"I am just trying to keep people safe-"

"From me!" the Rowdyruff interjected. Blossom was truly poking and prodding at his self-destruct button, over and over again, like some child that wouldn't stop tapping at a fish tank. His right hand balled into a tight fist as his arm raised—in warning."I know!"

"What're you going to do, Brick? Huh? Are you going to hit me just like you did before? Some man you are!" She was taunting him now, indicating to his elevating fist.

She wasn't afraid of him and that pissed him off. Projecting his balled hand toward her face, Brick intended on giving his wife a crash course in fear. It would be a lesson she would never forget, assuming he allowed her to make it out alive. Mercy was beneath him.

. . .

Startled from his sleep, Brick suddenly awoke—popping up from his comfortable position in bed like a blackened piece of bread from a toaster. He felt a sharp pain poking him the back of his throat, while his heartbeat raced like a horse galloping around a track. The need to breath was what compelled him out of his nightmare. Brick panted, his bare, muscular torso covered in a thick sheen of sweat.

Once Brick finally caught his breath, he slid his trembling legs over the edge of the bed.

There was a horrible pounding in his head...

Brick reached forward, clicking on the nightstand lamp on. As the dim light switched on, he noticed that his fingers were caked in blood, the crimson liquid left thick, globby trails all over his arm. It was fresh. Then, he examined his other hand, realizing with utter terror that he was clutching a butcher knife.

Where did that come from?

His own blood ran cold as though every muscle in his body had frozen over.

"Blossom!" Brick exclaimed, quickly whipping his head over his shoulder to see if she was all right.

She wasn't.

Blossom was comfortable tucked underneath the covers, entirely unaware that anything was amiss with Brick, even as she rested in a pool of her own blood. Her chest didn't rise or fall, nor was there the slightest twitch in her face, now drained entirely of his color. Not pale. But blue.

Brick killed her.

. . .

"Blossom!" the Rowdyruff Boy wheezed and hacked, his eyelids snapping open all of a sudden. He glanced over to his side, where his wife normally slept, and tried to absorb the hollow blackness as soon as possible. "Blossom!" he called out again, realizing that his Powerpuff counterpart was absent from their bed. "Blossom, where are you!"

"Brick..." Blossom yawned, trudging her feet as she dragged herself out of the washroom. "I'm right here, honey. I didn't wander too far," she assured him gently, walking over to his side of the bed. She stood right in front of him, affectionately combing his moisturized fingertips through her husband's slightly damp hair. "What's going on?"

"I don't know," the dazed man murmured. Brick circled his arms around Blossom's lower torso, desperate to hear the sound of her beautiful heart beating—just in case this, too, turned out to be another dream he would be torn away from. He pulled her toward him, burying his face in the softness of her stomach as he silently swore to himself that he would never let anything happen to her. Two, parallel streams of tears burned down his cheeks. "I don't know what's happening to me."

 **Author's Note: Slight crossover if you squint your eyes just a little bit. Fear not, fore there is an actual villain that you may or may not be able to guess the identity of (hint: not a PPG villain, but from a cartoon), but I don't have any plans to continue this story line. Sorry! I just wanted to write something _really_ dramatic.**


	18. And a Girl

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.**

 **Author's Note: Next installment of the containment ray bits! Yay! "Carnival" by Melanie Martinez.**

* * *

 _It's all fun and games_

 _Until somebody falls in love_

 _But you already bought a ticket_

 _And there's no turning back now_

What? She was scared to death of him? Granted, there was a part of Brick that was thrilled by Blossom's confession—why shouldn't she be terrified of him? On a number of occasions, he had wiped the floor with her, succeeding in roughing up her perfect, pristine image what she continuously worked so hard to maintain. Blossom should have instinctively bowed to his glory whenever they were around each other; she should have walked in the opposite direction whenever she saw Brick coming toward her—but where was the fun in that?

If Blossom were merely some coward, she would not have been his favorite Powerpuff Girl to go toe-to-toe with. He admired Blossom's subtle ferocity, shielded beneath a smoke screen of civility; oh how he adored her.

But there was a larger part of Brick that wondered why the fearless, clever commander of the prestigious Powerpuff Girls was frightened of him? As many times as Brick may have left mild wounds on her and messed up her appearance, Blossom was always victorious in their tussles. He wouldn't still be trapped in Professor Utonium's containment ray if that weren't that case.

"You! You're scared of me?" Brick's tone was skeptical, chuckle after chuckle emanating from his stomach. The very idea didn't seem at all reasonable.

"Why is that so funny to you?" the head Powerpuff Girl inquired, irritated by her counterparts reaction. "I thought that you would at least admit that I should be afraid of you."

"Oh, no. Don't get me wrong," he laughed breathlessly. "I just don't understand— _why_ do I scare you to death?"

"You really can't tell?" Blossom appeared dejected; reluctance was painted all over her facial features.

"Should I?" Brick asked as his laughter subsided, becoming more intrigued by her admission than amused.

"Funny," Blossom replied, her tone somewhat shy and deadpanned. "You presumed to know me so well earlier. You must've fooled me, too."

Cocking a curious eyebrow, Brick couldn't help but keep the corners of his mouth from curling into a knowing grin, nefarious shadows dancing within his candy cane-red irises. "Oh. So, you do have a thing for me? Is that it?"

"What? No! You're demented!"

"Then, what else could it possibly be, Blossom? Why else would you fear me?" he challenged, daring her to object further—to stifle him yet again. He didn't want Blossom to have feelings for him, but he would never—not in a thousand years—ever confess that he was afraid of her as well. Petrified.

Unknowingly, Blossom complied to Brick's challenge, stepping closer and closer to him. "I can't believe that you would even insinuate that I'm afraid of my feelings for you. What an unbelievably, actionable concept."

"Uh-huh," Brick lightheartedly indulged her.

His body was abundantly aware of his enemy's proximity, mere inches apart, as Blossom stared him down—her rose petal-pink eyes locked on wild rose-red, parallel cravings smoldering just underneath the surface. A fantasy crept into the red Rowdyruff Boy's mind, of him grabbing her by the waist and kissing those full, scarlet lips like it was 'do or die' kind of thing. Perhaps Brick would have done it, too, had it not been for the blue light outlining his body; he couldn't move in or out.

"I told you before—stop looking at me like that!" Blossom exclaimed, deliciously perturbed.

"Tell me why you're scared of me." Brick reached out to his counterpart, just a little. He ghosted an index finger under Blossom's chin, unable to truly touch her, and forced her eyes to remain on his own when her gaze wandered momentarily; and though he could not touch her, she obliged his silent command.

"Whether I like it or not—whether I like _you_ or not—you are tempting." Blossom took several steps backward as she spoke. "When we kissed, I did want to keep going. It didn't feel awful or out of character for me. It felt bad."

"It felt good," Brick retorted, understanding what the opposite side of his coin was saying. It was sort of sexy that his kiss elicited Blossom's bad girl side; but even if they had ended up having sex, Brick wouldn't have _fucked_ her. He would've been nice to her. "I guess we have opposite influences over each other."

"I suppose that it's not you I'm scared of, after all," Blossom concluded, sitting on the edge of the professor's work desk. "I'm scared of myself, who I am, when we're left all alone together." It wasn't accidental when she sat on the button that set him free.

"Why are you just letting me go?"

"Because I trust you to fend for yourself. I trust you to leave."

Brick should have done just that, he quietly mused to himself as he stalked toward her with a predatory, hungry mist in his crimson orbs. "I will leave eventually. You don't have to worry about that, pretty flower."

His mouth collided with hers, the magnetic draw inevitable. God damn it. Brick wanted her so, so bad. Blossom was pulling him in, like a stupid, idiotic moth to a very bright and sexy flame, except this time there was no trick hidden up her sleeve. What the fuck was he doing"

Their lips parted, both sets flushed and plump.

"Before I do, though," Brick growled huskily into Blossom's ear as his strong hands shredded her top, "I'm going to finish what you started."


	19. Trying to Take on the World

**Disclaimer: As usual, nothing belongs to me, but if I were a PPG show writer, Brick and Blossom would be the most canon ship ever.**

 **Author's Note: "Breathe Again" by Sarah Bareilles.**

* * *

 _All I have_

 _All I need_

 _He's the air I would kill to breathe_

Even though a powerful stream of Chemical X pulsated through his bloodstream, the renowned bad-boy-turned-good was not as invincible as he liked to believe. Today definitely proved that fact. It would have been difficult for anyone to survive a monster claw right through the chest—that was something that Blossom could not get out of her head. That thing meant to attack her; the claw was coming for her. Its claw would have shredded right through her chest if Brick hadn't suddenly pushed out of the way on time.

As if she needed to be rescued.

"Brick!" Blossom cried, her facial features contorted into sheer agony as her gut twisted around in place at the mortifying sight of her favorite person in the world laid out on a hospital table. "Brick, wake up! Wake up!" she pleaded hysterically, all the while Bubbles and Buttercup held their sister close, trying to get Blossom to turn away from the scene. "Brick, no!"

The head Powerpuff Girl felt tortured and helpless, watching as Brick's body convulsed erratically. The Chemical X in his system wasn't doing much to help the situation, its curative properties subdued by the serious nature of Brick's wounds. No one knew if he was going to actually survive.

At the moment, Brick's body was surrounded by doctors and nurses, too busy with trying to restart the teenage boy's heart to worry about the distressed sobs of one girl. Again and again, defibrillators were put to Brick's flatlining heart—again and again, to no avail. With each passing second, Blossom's naive hope that he was going to make it through this diminished and decreased until there was no hope left in her at all.

Why? Why did Brick have to go and save her? He should have known what the consequences were when he threw himself in front of her. How dare he... How dare Brick decide that Blossom's life was more important than his!

After awhile, the medical team simply gave up. To keep trying after so much time would have been overkill.

"No!" Blossom screamed, choking on the sharp, painful sensation of a sob, as she heaved for breaths. "God, no! How dare you leave me! Brick, how could you die and leave me all alone when I need you! Come back... Come back!" She sobbed harder, no longer able to stand up on her own. Blossom fell to her knees, clenching her sickened stomach while her sorrowful, strawberry-pink eyes attempted to focus on Brick—as if he could possibly hear her. "Brick!"

. . .

There was nothing, only a consciousness. There no sense of identity or self, no colors or light, no aim or mind. There was merely something—perhaps a soul—that was dimly aware of one other. It could make out an echoing sound tearing its way through all the static in the air, trying to get through to the consciousness. It recognized the fight in the sound, somehow familiar, though the message was muffled and distorted in translation. Yet, there was pure nothing where the consciousness floated.

It focused on the sound—not the sound itself, but rather the color; flashes of rose-mallow pink and magenta invaded the absent void, the colors moving like smoke.

In one moment, there was nothing. He was nothing.

In the next...

All signs of life were suddenly resurrected in each part of his body. Brick coughed violently, his throat aching for water, as his weakened retinas were nearly blinded by fluorescent lights.

Shit. Was he dead?

"He's breathing!" some foreign, female gasped, startled by his abrupt reanimation. "He's alive!"

. . .

It was a long, grueling, three hours later when Brick was finally able to receive visitors. To no one's surprise, Blossom was the first person he asked to see—as well as the only, since the hospital's visiting hours ended at 8:30 with no exceptions. It was already 8:00. What an unfair rule.

"Hey," Brick croaked like a frog as Blossom entered the hospital room.

"Hey," she replied, her own voice a little hoarse. She sat down at Brick's bedside and rested her head on his kneecap. Blossom didn't want to be anywhere near his torso, which was liberally covered in bandages.

Absentmindedly, Brick began stroking the top of Blossom's hair—tenderly combing his long digits through the lengthy streams of lush copper. He'd never seen her look so breakable before, and he just wanted to give her solace. "Are you okay?"

Slowly lifting her head up, Blossom gave Brick an incredulous stare. His question didn't register at first. When it did, Blossom nodded, ever as tears slipped down her pale cheeks. "Yeah..." She couldn't believe Brick; he almost died, but he was the one inquiring about her well-being. Seriously? His consideration humbled her. "What about you?"

"I have the next week off from crime-fighting and school. I'm feeling pretty good." All he had to do was get pummeled by a ferocious monster. "I'm in good spirits, Blossom. You don't have to worry about me anymore."

"Thank you, by the way, for saving my life," Blossom said, uncertain how to properly phrase her gratitude. "You didn't have to-"

"I know," Brick replied, gently threading his fingers through hers. His crimson orbs gazed into Blossom's bubblegum-pink ones. "But would I do if you weren't around? I would have no one to annoy."

"Brick..." Blossom whispered breathlessly. She was relieved to see him still alive, but a severe ache lingered in her chest. "You my best friend, but I... I want to kiss you."

A little rocked by his Powerpuff counterpart's admission, Brick furrowed both eyebrows and coughed. "Okay." He had no idea what to do with that information.

However, Blossom misconstrued Brick's bashful utterance with permission. She stood up and leaned in, slowly drawing her lips close to his—afraid she might injure him further. When their mouths connected at last, as Blossom's heart threatened to pound right out of her chest, she thought the moment would last no longer than a second—this was going to be a simple kiss between friends—but the only thing that kept Blossom from pulling away instantly was a funny, delightful sensation. Brick was actually kissing her back, expertly massaging and molding his lips against hers. Their mouths fit together perfectly, like to pieces of one puzzle locking together in completion. Brick was far from being the first boy she ever kissed, yet he was the first one to make the act feel natural, as if his breath was hers.

After a minute, they finally withdrew, albeit reluctantly. They existed in silence for just a moment, absorbing what they had just done.

"So..." Brick said, his lips spreading into a broad, cocky grin. "Do I always have to save your life in order to get a kiss from you or can we make that a more frequent occurrence?"

Blossom was far too nervous to answer verbally, so she answered Brick's question with another kiss.


	20. And We Wanna Get Caught

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.**

 **Author's Note: "Ultraviolet" by Alexz Johnson.**

 **Author's Note #2: So, I am beginning to reach Blossom/Brick burn out, so I'll probably take a break for awhile. I'm not sure how long the break will last, but you can be sure that it will not be forever. That's pretty much why I wanted to keep all these stories one-shots, but too little, too late. With that said, however, there will be two more updates, another Halloween special and yet another installment of the break-up bit.**

* * *

 _I don't want what's good for me_

 _I don't need a remedy_

 _No one's gonna rescue me from myself_

 _I don't care if it hurts my eyes_

 _I'll stare until I'm going blind_

 _You can hate me_

 _I don't mind anymore_

 _Because I know you're the cure_

Blossom didn't mean for things to get this far out of hand. She could barely remember how Brick Jojo went from being her worst nightmare to her dizziest daydream come true, and that moment occurred only three minutes ago, after she released him from the containment ray. In one instance, they were exchanging insults and innuendos—in the next, they were right back at square one; Brick's mouth was on top of hers—molding, melding, and massaging in perfect synchronization, raising the burning fever in Blossom's body, as Brick hinted her backwards to perch herself on the desk.

At first, the pink Powerpuff Girl was determined not to be swept off her feet by the rascally Rowdyruff Boy; she wanted to fight for control over the situation, her better senses trying to reach back to the surface. But Brick's kiss was poisonous—intoxicating. Overwhelming.

"What are you doing to me?" Brick whispered against her lips, his question echoing through the inner workings of Blossom's mind. "We shouldn't be doing this, you know?" He held her chin between his thumb and index finger when she finally sat on the desk's edge.

"I know," Blossom answered with a breathy murmur, a sultry ring resonating from her voice as her rose-pink eyes became fixated on Brick's plum-red ones, the heat between their stare crackling like cinders from a sky-high flame. She knew, but her will to care was slowly evaporating from her mind.

"But you make it so hard to stop," Brick declared as Blossom teasingly feathered her teeth along his lower lip—something she had done earlier that excited his lower body beyond belief.

"The truth is, Brick, I don't want you to stop," she confessed, proving her point by unzipping the fly of his blue jeans and undoing his leather-studded belt, until his pants fell around his ankles.

His lips curved into an intrigued smirk. "Minx," he accused adoringly, a hushed growl emanating from his lower chest. "I promise that I will not stop until you've had all you can take." To emphasize his point, the red Rowdyruff Boy tore off the clasp of Blossom's teal bra, exposing her chest to the cool air of Professor Utonium's laboratory.

Brick enveloped her left breast into his mouth, grazing his tongue over the needily puckered, bare nipple as he laid Blossom over the desk, stripping the surface of its gadgets and notebooks. Her legs circled around his waist as she rocked her soaked core against the pulsating bulge in his boxers, eliciting groan after groan from him—the husky, primal vibrations addictive to her ears, the sensation around her naked tits seductive. Blossom felt Brick become harder through her slick panties, a sense of accomplishment and power washing over her.

Her hips ground against Brick harder—with a more furious tenacity—his boner digging right against her fast-beating clitoris in the way she loved. Blossom was losing herself to the pleasure singing throughout her body. So forbidden. So wonderful. So fucking sexy and she wanted to feel more. More of _it_. More of _him_. Blossom was working double-time, grinding her clit along the fat pole between her covered folds—the eagerness of her sex outweighing the intelligence of her brain.

"Hey, hey, hey," Brick muttered, chuckling lightly as he pinned down Blossom's hips to the desk with his own—halting her movements. "I'm gonna take care of you, baby, but you gotta slow down first. I'm gonna make you feel so, so good, but not a moment too soon."

His words echoed throughout her body, further elevating her temperature.

The red Rowdyruff Boy gave Blossom's nipple a parting lick before trailing his tongue all the way down her body, slithering his pink muscle like an Eden serpent—filling the righteous Powerpuff Girl with the will to commit wrong; and his invitation was the forbidden fruit. God, she wanted him so bad. It was almost unfair how her inhibitions, though softened, wouldn't go away. His tongue felt unbelievably good, soothing her skin, as Brick wandered down—his destination being Blossom's womanhood.

"Y-You don't have to..." Blossom told her counterpart shyly, slightly propping herself up with her elbows to look at him.

"I don't," Brick stated in nonchalant confirmation as shoved two digits passed the teenage super-girl's entrance—no warning given. He moved his hand back and forth, never quite retracting his fingers out. Automatically, Blossom arched her pelvis while kitten-like whimpers escaped from her mouth. "I'm going to make you feel good."

"Brick, please..." Blossom pleaded, catching her bottom lip between her teeth.

His smirk seemed to gleam within the shadows of his face as his tongue flicked upward along Blossom's sensitive clit through her panties. Blossom shivered, her toes curling of their own accord. As Brick dipped his head even further between her legs, one of his hands caressed her stomach and then went to squeeze her breast—playing with the firm, soft slope. All the while, Brick's opposite hand twisted as his fingers thrust deep inside her pussy—curving whenever his fingertips made contact with the rigid surface of her g-spot. His tongue flung up and down on her bundle of nerves, scooping up the arousal that fled from her sex on the flat of his tongue greedily.

"Fuck," Brick whispered, nuzzling his face against her panty-covered pussy. "You can capture me anytime," _lick_ , "from now own," _lick, lick, lick_ , "as long as you let me," _lick, suck_ , "eat your pussy." _Lick, suck, suck, lick_. "So good, so wet."

It was obvious that Brick meant every word as Blossom's panties entered the graveyard with the rest of her torn clothing, so Brick could bury his tongue all the way inside Blossom's pussy. His words mixed with his action sent the pink Powerpuff Girl's sensory into hyper-space as Brick's tongue grazed all over the right zones of her pussy over and over again, groaning and grunting like a hungry animal while he did. Blossom's pink inner walls trembled around his tongue as she reached climax—the feeling incredible, as though the synapses of her brain bunched together and exploded into pure, white ecstasy.

Bliss.

"Brick! Brick!" Blossom chanted repeatedly as his taste buds soaked in the torrents of her orgasmic honey.

"God damn," Brick exclaimed, slurping and sucking upon his counterpart's delectable pussy. "That was better than I ever dreamed." He climbed onto the desk, standing upon his knees as they were positioned between the Powerpuff Girl's. He gently pulled her along to sit up. "You are amazing. So fucking gorgeous, pretty flower."

"We're not done, are we?"

"Not even close."


	21. In the Middle of a Very Happy Ending

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.**

 **Author's Note: "For Your Entertainment" by Adam Lambert.**

 **Author's Note #2: Happy Halloween, everyone! I'm curious, what are your plans for this coming Halloween night? Is anyone dressing up or having a movie marathon?**

* * *

 _No escaping when I start_

 _Once I'm in, I own your heart_

 _There's no way to ring the alarm_

 _So hold on until it's over_

The Powerpuff Girls and the Rowdyruff Boys sat around in a circle in Professor Utonium's living room as they played a rousing game of Truth or Dare. In the last half hour, Butch admitted to crying like a baby during the Lion King, Bubble put teal hair dye in the professor's shampoo bottle, Buttercup wad dared to put on one of Blossom's dresses, and Boomer confessed to having a crush on Bubbles when they were younger. The ever-spinning bottle seemed to spare Blossom and Brick, who were sitting adjacent to each other, as they snacked on strawberries and whipped cream. So far, everyone else already had multiple turns, except for them—much to the Reds' lucky streak.

But their luck finally ran out when it was Butch's turn to spit the bottle. Around and around it spun, and finally stopped thirty seconds later—the bottle aiming between Brick and Blossom.

"By all means, ladies first," Brick said sheepishly, scooting a few centimeters away from the indecisive bottle.

"Oh, Brick, I had no idea you were such a gentleman," Blossom replied with a deadpanned tone as she raised a copper eyebrow.

"M'lady," Brick snorted sarcastically.

"I suppose it's my turn then," Blossom stated, slowly combing her fingers through her tresses of golden auburn.

"Truth or dare?" Butch asked, grinning as a plethora of opportunity presented itself. He salivated at the mouth with all the tremendous possibilities; he could dare her to strip off her shirt for the rest of the night or make Blossom dance a jig.

"Truth," she answered politely.

Fiddlesticks. "Um... Who was your first kiss?"

Blossom's shell-pink eyes shifted toward the shag carpeting as her cheeks began to match the scarlet color of her silk bow. "I wish I could tell you, Butch, but-"

"She's never been kissed," the red Rowdyruff Boy chortled next to her, an impish grin playing at the right-hand corner of his mouth.

"No!" Blossom protested, nudging her male counterpart in the stomach. She smiled when Brick started coughing, slightly winded by the blow. "I have been kissed. I just don't know who my first kiss belongs to."

"How is that possible?" Boomer inquired, a slight bit skeptical.

"Oh, brother," Buttercup muttered as she crossed her arms, readying her ears to hear Blossom's first kiss story for the thousandth time. "Here we go..."

"Sh! Be quiet!" Bubbles shouted in a high-pitched voice at her moodier sister, flailing her arms like a lunatic. "This is the best first kiss story ever!"

"Well, let's hear it, Blossom," Brick challenged nefariously.

. . .

A little over a year ago, Princess Morebucks was hosting yet another masquerade balls at her mansion; that year, she actually bothered to invite the Powerpuff Girls—it would have been a social travesty to her popular girl image if she didn't invite Bubbles, the newest asset to the cheerleading squad, as well as her sisters.

With nothing else to do that night, the Powerpuff Girls attended Princess' party that Saturday night, though Bubbles and Buttercip managed to find some last-minute dates in the forms of Pablo and Mitch. Not that Blossom cared that she went stag. If anything, she was kind of proud. Most of the boys at her school were much too intimidated by the pink Powerpuff Girl's super brain to approach her, too afraid of saying anything stupid—not that Blossom was known for being a snob. Her perfection was merely... humbling. Very much so.

That wallflower sat against the right wall of the rented ballroom, watching her sisters dance the night away with their respective dates. She let out a deflated sigh, starting to believe that she gussied herself up for nothing. Disguised at the (genderbent) Phantom of the Opera—black and white ribbons braided through her tendrils of autumn-red, wearing a white peasant-styled blouse and black-ruffle skirt, and a half-mask. Blossom easily had one of the most creative costumes at the ball, while everyone else simply wore their best outfits and slapped a mask on their faces. No effort.

Maybe she should have just gone home.

"Thank God," a deep voice murmured next to her. " I thought I was the only one who took this costume stuff too seriously."

Looking to her left, Blossom spotted a tall stranger leaned against the wall with his arms folded over his broad chest. His face was concealed behind a black mask, the velvet material over his upper face, while the stranger's eyes were obscured by a spandex veil. It took her a moment to decipher what his disguise was specifically—a long, burgundy-velvet coat with silk, golden threads embroidered at the seams, cross-skull cuff links, a brown-leather hat with a red feather sticking out from it, and of course, there was a silver hook attached to his arm.

"Captain Hook, I presume?" Blossom giggled, standing up next to him.

"Correct you are, my dear," he replied, bowing from the hips as the young lady slipped a hand over his open palm, and placed a kiss upon her bent knuckles. "What are you supposed to be? A dark, mysterious goddess come to take my heart? Perhaps a gorgon in disguise?" he inquired, using a voice modifier to deepen his voice slightly.

"I am the Phantomess of the Opera," the Powerpuff Girl replied. Very much in spite of herself, she was falling for his smooth talk. If it weren't for the cotton candy blush she was already wearing, her cheeks would have spilled her secret.

"I knew it! How fitting for a sexy creature that haunts my dreams at night," Captain Hook said. He placed Blossom's hand flat against his chest. "Your eyes... Only in my dreams could I memorize their impressive color." Blossom couldn't be sure, but she had a funny feeling that he was gazing into her eyes at the very moment—feeling the nervous throbbing of his heartbeat against her palm. "The beauty of your magenta windows has left a stain on my crimson soul, Phantomess."

Withdrawing her hand from his chest, Blossom quirked an eyebrow at her flatterer. "I bet you consider yourself quite the casanova, don't you?"

"Aye, lass," the pirate chuckled lightheartedly. "Every pirate trains himself in the language of romance to catch a lady's fancy." Captain Hook tucked his good hand up the opposite sleeve, conjuring a pink rose. "But my words are sincere, Phantomess."

Stunned as her offered her a rose, Blossom accepted the silver-tongued pirate's gift wordlessly. The gesture certainly put her heart in a flutter. Her brain couldn't quite give purchase to the notion that this stranger's compliments were earnest, but she was charmed all the same. His presence thrilled Blossom as though cerulean waves of electricity passed between the pair of teenagers.

"If this is a mere game you are playing, my heart will be your prize, you dastardly scoundrel," Blossom retorted, after a moment of silence.

"Your heart isn't a mere goal for me, Angel of Music."

"Oh?"

"Aye. 'Tis my birthright."

"Your birthright? I beg your pardon?"

"I mean, the sparks in the air between your soul and mine. Don't you feel the electricity?" Captain Hook clarified as one hand tenderly tugged on Blossom's, guiding her black stiletto heels toward the dance floor. "I dare say that you and I are soul mates, Phantomess."

The stranger pulled the teenage girl into his arms, their torso pressed together, as the slow dance changed into a more upbeat, bouncy song. Blossom bent one arm around his shoulders as he dipped her—one, wide hand tucked behind her lower back while the other, the hook, slid behind her knee. His hold on her was tender, but tight—possessive. She could feel the smoldering temperature of his hidden gaze wander along her body as he pulled her back up, their feet traveling around the ballroom floor as though they had performed this waltz a thousand times. Captain Hook was calculating each step expertly as he moved behind her. He, with his fingers woven with hers, twirled the Phantomess away from his chest, then back toward him.

As the song began to fade, Blossom's mysterious masked man, still standing behind her, slightly craned his neck as an index finger tilted her chin up—to have her painted lips meet his, in a gentle kiss. It last no longer than ten seconds, but Blossom was certain, as her eyes fluttered closed, that the starts must have exploded. His kiss was warm and soft. Magical.

. . .

"And then, when I opened my eyes, my pirate was gone," Blossom finished, tracing a finger across her bottom lip—the electric, tantalizing sensation lingered upon her mouth as she retold the memory.

"So romantic," her blonde sister sighed dreamily, squeezing a pillow between her arms.

"Wait, wait, wait," Butch complained, waving his hands. "So, some guy just kissed you? And you just let him?"

"Pirates are notorious for their thievery, but all he did was steal a kiss," Blossom answered, absentmindedly smiling.

"Hey, Brick," Boomer mumbled to his brother not-so discretely. "Didn't you go as Captain Hook, too?"

"Shut up," the red Rowdyruff grumbled, shoving Boomer away.

But it was too late.

"Oh, my god!" Buttercup exclaimed, rolling around the floor as she laughed and pointed at Blossom. "Brick kissed you!"


	22. Let's See What We've Got

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.**

 **Author's Note: "I Still Love You" by Alexz Johnson.**

 **Authore's Note #2: So, yeah... This is the last one for awhile. I'm very sorry that this particular story line has yet to meet its conclusion, but it will someday! Just not today or tomorrow or even the next day... But eventually.**

* * *

 _I know rocks turn to sand_

 _And hearts can change heads_

 _And you're not to blame_

 _When the sky fills with rain_

 _But if we stay to walk away_

 _There's one thing that's true_

 _I still love you_

Uncertainty. That was the only constant Brick ever had in his life. He was uncertain if he and Blossom would live or die in these miserable mines; he was uncertain if they could truly make amends after every stupid thing he did to earn his ex-girlfriend's wrath; he was uncertain if her forgiveness was genuine or if their current situation forced mercy's hand; he was uncertain of himself, if he would be strong enough to finally let her go when all was said and done—if he could finally tell her everything she deserved to know, everything he should have said to her every day while he was still on his first chance.

Most of all, Brick was scared; Brick was scared that he might never get a second chance at all, and a Rowdyruff Boy should never be afraid of anything.

"Maybe that's what our problem was all along," Brick concluded aloud, studiously observing the dancing shadows of the warm flames shimmer across Blossom's attentive expression. "I'm a Rowdyruff Boys and you're a Powerpuff Girls. I'm a Robin Hood and I should stick with my Maid Marians. You're Juliet and you should have the best Romeo."

"I never thought of us as polar opposites," Blossom said, somewhat disappointed over his assessment. "To me, you and I were just opposite sides of the same coin."

After all, they were both the commanders of their teams—one fought to preserve peace and justice in the world, while the other disrupted the world. They were both stubborn and couldn't handle chaos well—one preferred to always be on top of the situation and be in control, while the other simply chose to ignore it. They were both competitive and tenacious—one poured her heart and soul into academics while the other was a master athlete. Perhaps they weren't the exact same, but they weren't all that different from one another either. That's initially why Blossom thought she and Brick could work, because there was a balance to their nature—not yin and yang, but the sun and the moon. She wasn't all good, and he wasn't all bad.

"You thought of us separately instead of as one," Blossom continued, leaning her back against the wall.

"I thought you were proud of your independence," Brick retorted, puzzled by her words, "just like me."

"Sure," the Powerpuff Girl partially agreed, "but there is a big difference between independence and solitude. You... You created a world for yourself that I could never share with you, no matter how much I wanted to. You don't want to rely on anybody."

"That wasn't true, not at first," Brick patiently reminded her. "We used to talk all the time, about the dumbest stuff and the important stuff. I was open with you. Honest. It was like I was a completely different person," or perhaps he was merely himself for the first time. "It was new and scary. The closer you got, I felt exposed."

"I know... I always knew, Brick. I know you." Blossom cast her strawberry ice-cream-gaze toward the dusty ground, and slid her legs to lie flat. "I put up with your moodiness and your distance, because I knew you needed some time, and... I actually thought that we could get over our rough patch, where you were nothing but white noise and I was invisible."

"I saw you, Blossom, and I heard you..." Brick released a heavy sigh from his chest. "You fought to keep our relationship alive and I fell more in love with you." He had no idea what the fuck his porlbme was in retrospect.

"It took you awhile to tell me, but when you finally did, you were drunk," Blossom responded. She closed her eyelids and expelled a deep breath, stifling her emotions.

"I'm a moron." Some people have told me that alcohol brings out a person's true personality. If there was any truth in that myth, Brick was a pussy at heart—a brokenhearted guy who crawled all the way back to his ex's doorstep. "I don't know what I was thinking. The memory is fuzzy now. But I meant every word."

"It doesn't matter if you meant it, Brick," the pink Powerpuff replied bitterly as she got off the ground. She couldn't sit down anymore. Her legs were becoming restless. "You were too late."

"I know," the teenage boy murmured dejectedly.

"Do you?" she asked, sincerely skeptical that he had any idea. "Just because I broke up with you, Brick, doesn't mean that..." Pausing for three seconds, Blossom faced away from her former boyfriend as she folded her arms over her chest.

"Doesn't mean what?" Brick questioned curiously as he also stood up, though he chose to keep his distance for the time being.

"It doesn't mean that I stopped caring about you—hoping, in spite of myself, that you would just get over yourself," Blossom answered, rolling her eyes at her past self for being so naive. "You've had my heart all along, Brick, but you just kept squeezing and squeezing. I was waiting for you to sober up and tell me how you felt for me, but you never did. Instead, what did you do? You had me replaced."

There was no denying what he did.

He wasn't upset with Berserk for telling Blossom. Deep down, Brick could admit that the pink Powerpunk Girl was a more than adequate double for Blossom; that's why he went to her so often, after all. She was so similar to Blossom that he could forget altogether that they were two different people. He touched Berserk in the same ways he touched Blossom, eliciting identical moans that clouded his mind with alluring memories of the Powerpuff Girl. Berserk also tasted like Blossom, that way her tongue molded against his was parallel. In looks and physicality—sexually—Blossom and Berserk were twins.

However, Berserk's personality was better suited to Brick's. There was no challenge with Berserk at all; she was just a low-maintenance girl, who enjoyed drinking a cold beer on the high school's rooftop with the rest of the outcasts and talking smack about the pretentious in-crowd. She could make Brick with her impressions of Princess—and not that 'ha ha' kind of laughter either, she should actually make his stomach cramp up. Berserk was a tough and no nonsense kind of girl, or at least Brick thought so. He never once took her feelings into account on how he treated the pink Powerpunk Girl during sex... Christ, he was a jackass.

"I didn't know. I didn't know you were waiting on me," Brick said truthfully, ever the oblivious one. "What I did was fucked up. If I could take it back, I would in a heartbeat."

"You don't understand..." Blossom turned around. She was smiling, though teardrops streamed down the center of her cerise cheeks. "You told me again about how you felt, only it wasn't me at all. It was Berserk. You shared your love with someone else. How could I ever forgive you for that?"

Brick took a step closer to Blossom, wanting to reassure her. He wanted to hold her and keep her from crying. "Blossom, I never-"

"No!" Blossom exclaimed, holding her arms straight. With a palm faced flat against his chest, she demanded distance. "Don't come near me. Don't touch me, because you'll just spoil it. You spoil everything, Brick! You invited another girl into what I thought was sacred to only us."

"I was out of my mind, Blossom, but I never once told her the things I told ever. Berserk was a simulation of you, but I never fooled myself into loving her!" Brick shouted exasperatedly, trying to make Blossom understand that she was special and rare to him; there was something only in her that his heart and soul—if he even had a soul, that is—responded to.

"It doesn't matter what you say," Blossom replied, clasping one hand to her stomach as though she were about to be sick, while the opposite hand was clenched over her chest as though her heart might burst out. "You can't make it better. I'm repulsed with everything you've done to push me further and further away. I'm disgusted with myself that I ever opened my heart to you to begin with! I loved you and you couldn't even say it to my face without booze! You told someone else!" Out of breath, Blossom groaned at herself in agitation for what she was about to do—for what she was about to confess. "I hate you so much, Brick, but I hate myself even more for letting you hurt me. Because worst of all, I love you. I still love you, and I'm frightened that I always will."

Stepping forward in another attempt to console Blossom—with no complaints or objections—Brick enclosed his arms around the sobbing girl, as she buried her wet face against his t-shirt. He held her close to him, shielding him from the cold breeze that seemed to be coming from a western tunnel.

When Blossom's eyes refused to shed anymore tears, she and Brick simple stared into each others respective burgundy and magenta eyes for a heartbeat of a moment, then kissed.


	23. Let's Give it a Shot

**Disclaimer: The following characters do not belong to me.**

 **Author's Note: I have returned! But only for a little while. I decided to finally finish the BlossomxBrick break-up series, so you all can look forward to upcoming chapter of them and their reconciliation. I've also written a few other one-shots to sandwich their never-ending soap opera. Mainly, I wanted to write all these in celebration of the PPG reboot! Fingers crossed that the show will be good and the creators will realize the romantic potential between the puffs and the ruffs!**

 **Author's Note #2: "We Can Go Anywhere" by Jesse McCartney.**

* * *

 _You know that sun is shining_

 _We'll keep driving_

 _Doesn't matter where_

 _'Cause we got the open highway_

 _Leading our way_

Blossom and Brick's mouths were practically melded together, sparks flying from their physical reunion.

The red Rowdyruff Boy's hands cupped the pink Powerpuff Girl's cerise cheeks, tenderly ghosting the pads of his thumbs across the soft flesh, while her hands clasped tightly at the collar of his t-shirt. He greatly missed being close to her like this, lost in a sweet cloud of fluffy, cotton candy and watermelon; it had been months—far too long since their last kiss. The taste of Blossom's mouth was familiar to Brick, the touch of her lips felt routine, comfortably so—filling his heart with a sense of homecoming, as if this was where he was supposed to be. This notion was difficult to deny, since their mouths fit so perfectly together, in just the way he remembered.

Were it not for the need to breathe, Brick would have never let go of Blossom.

They required only a second to catch their breaths, but it seemed a mere second was all Blossom needed to come to her senses. Just as Brick was about to return his mouth to its rightful place, Blossom covered her lips with one hand and gently pushed him away with the opposite.

"No!" she exclaimed, stepping back from him. "This is all wrong! I can't... I can't be naive and put myself through this torture again!"

"Blossom, baby," Brick whispered, already feeling cold without her near, "I know that I messed up." Too many times. "But you have to know that I love you."

"Tch," Blossom scoffed and shook her head in disappointment. Her lips pursed as she started to impatiently chew the inside of her cheek. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"You don't mean that, Blossom," Brick challenged, cautiously taking a step forward in her direction. When she made no move to away from him, he closed the distance between them.

"Don't," she warned shakily, giving him an ice-cold glare, but still, Blossom could not shake him off that easily. "How could you possibly know what I mean?"

"I already told you—I love you, Blossom," the Rowdyruff Boys' commander reasoned. It felt so good to finally get that off his chest. He was such an idiot for not saying it sooner.

"It doesn't matter anymore, Brick," Blossom replied as teardrops spilled from the tips of her raven eyelashes and down her cheeks. "It doesn't matter how either of us feel for each other anymore. You can't love me."

"Why?" Brick questioned in an incredulous tone of voice. He grasped Blossom's wrists and pulled her hands up to his face. He asked her again, this time in a much softer voice; all the while, his crimson orbs were super-glued to her strawberry-pink irises. "Why? Why can't I love you anymore, Blossom?"

"Because," Blossom started while her ex-boyfriend placed kisses on either of her palms, "it's over, Brick."

"It's not over."

"It has to be."

"It doesn't. We can try again. We can start over."

As Brick pulled his other and better half closer to him, he did not lean in to kiss her this time. Instead, his arms warmly encased her body; no matter how the rest of the night turned out or what Blossom decided in the end, he wanted to hold her in his arms for this moment, just for now. He wanted to be the gallant hero she deserved, her shield from the drafty tunnels; he wanted to comfort her as she cried. Her face was buried in Brick's t-shirt, as she quietly sobbed into the cotton material. The teenage body allowed his nobler instincts to kick in for once in his life, and combed his hair through Blossom's lengthy, penny-colored swirls of hair.

"I hurt you, Blossom," he spoke softly, choking back a knot that had been swelling inside the back of his throat. "I'm sorry. God, I wish I could prove to you that we could work now, but maybe I don't deserve a second chance. Not after everything I've done."

"You..." Blossom murmured in a raspy voice, as though she couldn't trust herself to speak properly. She gulped slightly and looked up at him. "You can't ever shut me out again. I can't trust you, Brick, if you always refuse to speak the truth to me."

Just before Brick could agree to his female counterpart's terms and conditions, both of their ears caught the sound of a monstrous explosion, no more than a hundred meter dash away. They both ran as fast as they could with their fingers laced together. When they finally reached the source of the commotion, they stumbled upon the sight of their friends and family members standing outside.

"Blossom!" Professor Utonium, Bubbles, and Buttercup shouted in unison, relieved to see her.

"Thank goodness you're safe," the professor added, swiping several beads of sweat from his forehead. "We were so worried!"

Blossom quickly let go of Brick's hand and launched herself into her family's loving embrace. "Thank you so much! I thought we would be stuck in there forever!"

"Glad to see us, bro?" Butch inquired with an eyebrow cocked in amuse.

"You bet," Brick retorted casually, fistbumping his two brothers, though his eyes never left Blossom.

What would become of them now? Blossom was bound to change her mind.

"Man, the things you do for some pussy," Butch commented snidely, gesturing to the pink Powerpuff Girl's torn and tattered uniform.

"By the looks of it, you two had a pretty good romp in there," Boomer said, waggling his eyebrows.

"Shut up. It wasn't like that," Brick muttered to them, casting a threatening glower betwixt Boomer and Butch. "Idiots."

"Come on, bro. Let's go home," Boomer replied, keeping his azure eyes locked on his cellphone while busily texting away.. "I've got my own skirt to chase. By the way, you should be a lot nicer to Berserk in the future."

"Wait a minute..." Shyly, with his brain brimming in a stew of nervousness, Brick challenged himself to walk up to the Utoniums; he completely ignored Boomer's statement altogether. "Hey, Blossom?"

"What do you want, Brick? Haven't you put my sister through enough already?" Buttercup queried, protectively shielding Blossom from his presence.

"It's okay, Buttercup," Blossom said, patting her brutish sister on the shoulder. With that, Buttercup walked away, as Bubbles and the professor gave them a moment to themselves.

"So..." Brick chuckled halfheartedly, unsure of what needed to be said. "Where do you go from here?"

 _As long as you are there_

 _We can go anywhere_


	24. We All Want to Know

**Disclaimer: Absolutely nothing belongs to me.**

 **Author's Note: "This is my World" by Darius Rucker.**

* * *

 _This is my world_

 _This is who I am_

 _And I'm not trying to give myself_

 _To make your life better_

 _She said, 'This is how it is'_

 _I've got my own life to live_

 _You can either accept me_

 _Or, baby, let me go_

"Y-You guys! Stop it!" Bubbles exclaimed frantically, keeping her mouth covered with both hands as she watched her two most favorite people in the world pummel each other. "Please! We're sisters! We're not supposed to be fighting like this! Stop fighting, please!"

"Not until she comes to her senses," Buttercup yelled in response to her blubbering sister.

The former Powerpuff Girl leader was pinned down beneath the weight of her sister, struggling for freedom as Buttercup's left hand dealt blow after blow to her face. Buttercup's punches were incredible—the sheer, unbridled force behind each, solitary impact left the slightly weaker redhead surprised—though not overpowered. Blossom had never been on the receiving end of Buttercup's legendary beat-downs, but she supposed that she left her sister no other choice after all of Townsville discovered she, the once ethical and brilliant Powerpuff Girl, was the one responsible for putting Princess and Eliot in intensive care. The remaining Powerpuff Girls attempted numerous times to convince the new Rowdyruff Girl to turn herself in; that's what the old Blossom would do, they reasoned; but the old Blossom didn't exist anymore.

That girl was dead.

"Don't you get it? I'm never coming back," Blossom said. She gritted her teeth as she lifted a bloody fist from the ground, and then grabbed her raven-haired sibling by the side of her head. Their foreheads smashed together, leaving Buttercup stunned by the counterattack, as she fell against the concrete.

Dozens of people surrounded the violent scene—some watched right there on the street, some watched from the safety of their workplace windows. Some of them were civilians Blossom saved countless times from monster attacks and brainless thugs, some of them were the criminals she tossed in prison. Some of the familiar faces were once her friends, that same friends that ridiculed her after Princess's leaked that bogus naked picture. There was one person—one face—in the crowd, however, that Blossom spotted out of the hundred there; this was the only onlooker that wasn't interested in judging Blossom or snidely berating her out-of-character actions. He was the only person in the whole world, it seemed, who understood.

Blossom pounced up from her laying position on the ground, yanked Buttercup by her ankles, and contemptuously slammed her body into the cracking pavement over and over again. There was a part of Blossom, a diminishing part, that didn't want to hurt Buttercup, but this was the only way both of her sisters would learn.

"Stop it, Blossom!" Bubbles pleaded, forcefully grabbing her by the elbows.

"Fine," Blossom collectively concurred with a cake-eating grin. She projected Buttercup's unconscious body at the floating, blue Powerpuff, causing both of them to crash through the baker's window. "I was getting bored anyway."

Just as Blossom turned to leave, a meek Bubbles called out to reason with her one, final time. "Blossom, we-we're sisters!" she whimpered desperately, her sapphire orbs glazed over with salty tears.

Placing her curled knuckles on each hip, the victorious pink Rowdyruff Girl shook her head to and from, taunting the stupid, little optimist with a sour giggle, "I am terribly sorry, dear Bubbles, but I am no longer your sister, nor Buttercup's."

"But..." Bubbles was at a loss for words as she feebly crawled toward Buttercup, moving to carefully cradle her limp body.

"I spared you and your pathetic Townsville. Next time, I will not be as liberal with my patience if you refuse to get out of my way," Blossom threatened—no— _vowed_.

Her beautiful eyes began to glow with a violet-red hue, as if her irises had captured the color of a sunset inside of her soul. She flew higher, her knees bent, as she glowered at the cowardly faced of the innocents who had not even flinched forward to offer their precious heroines any help.

"I hope the rest of you have learned that I'm not the type of girl to be messed with so easily. If you thought the Rowdyruff Boys were bad, I'm infinitely worse."

. . . . . . .

In Brick's humble opinion, Blossom looked jaw-droppingly hot in her brand new uniform; every time he saw her in it, his pulse started racing. Red and black just seemed to suit her. Of course, Blossom's new attire wasn't precisely the same as his own. She had customized the outfit to fit her body, as well as to match her liberated personality. Instead of the basic t-shirt and jeans, Blossom wore a pair of black-denim short shorts, utilizing her cherry-red ribbon as a belt, a style that accented the enticing curves of her ass and the lines of her hips, while she changed the shirt into a single-shoulder crop-top, the fabric torn from the bottom to expose her slender, but carefully toned midriff. Needless to say, Brick's delightful female counterpart was nothing less than a total, freaking bombshell, even more so with her smooth, slightly tanned skin on display. It took a profuse amount of effort to scrape his tongue off the floor and form intelligible sentences whenever he found himself around the comfortably dressed, badass goddess.

On the other hand, Blossom looked even better with her uniform _off_ , again, in Brick's humble opinion.

The leader of the Rowdyruff Boys stood right in the middle of the doorway to Blossom's bedroom, his demonically scarlet eyes fixated on the girl's back. He was stuck in transfixed state—silently spellbound, as Blossom slowly pushed the black-denim material shorts passed the defined outline of her hips, then off her legs. _Holy mother of God_. How could one person embody such fantastic, feminine curves?! Blossom was a stone-cold fox. Brick couldn't keep his curious, greedy eyes from drinking in the sight of Blossom; granted, she was faced away from him, which was A-okay with him. His view of Blossom's body was practically perfect, since he had an agreeable vantage point of her peach-shaped backside. So plump. So spankable in those fuchsia-laced panties.

What a tease.

"I hate to admit it," Blossom spoke suddenly, catching Brick off-guard, "but I like it when you watch me."

Coolly, the red Rowdyruff Boy retorted, "I like watching you." He softly shut the door behind him, just in case his meddling brothers decided to come barreling by, and stepped toward his counterpart. "Still, I'm kind of surprised.

"You expected that my behavior would be more modest?" Blossom inquired with a light, sultry giggle as she turned around to face him.

"Yeah, I thought you would be more of an innocent," Brick replied honestly.

Despite the lustful, wicked fog radiating between Blossom and Brick, their gazes were locked together—blazing fire staring back at daring cherry. It was a wonder the bedroom wasn't burning down from the invisible flames shimmering between their fixations.

"So did I," Blossom stated, lifting a teasing brow. She peeled the crop-top from her upper torso, unabashed to be mostly naked in front of Brick. "Who knew exhibitionism could be so...sensational?" Standing before him in only a bra and panties, Blossom fluidly tossed her long, chestnut locks over her shoulders to give Brick a more intimate view of her shapely breasts.

A weaker man might have faltered at the glorious sight, but Brick managed to remain composed. "As long as you don't feel pressured to perform."

"Maybe a little bit," she confessed halfheartedly, moving to sit at the foot of her bed. "You took a big risk when you chose to let me stay here with you and your brothers. I know what that meant for me. I..."

"Blossom?" he murmured softly, sitting down beside the former commander of the Powerpuff Girls and his former nemesis. "You were incredible today in the way you handled your sisters, but you don't have anything to prove to me." And he meant that, too. After all, it wasn't as though he were a villainous wolf who lured a vulnerable girl to his lair—to change her. He earnestly wanted to comfort Blossom.

"I know that," Blossom insisted. The color of her cheeks started to deepened, a pink glow spreading throughout the pretty surface. "I came to you of my own volition and I don't regret my decision. I would never stay here just because I felt indebted."

Brick figured as much. No matter who or what she was fighting, Blossom was still fiercely independent and strong; he wouldn't want her any other way. "Good, because I certainly never thought of you as a captive," Brick said. Absentmindedly, he leaned in closer, inhaling the sweet fragrance of lavender from Blossom's auburn tendrils, and rested his fingertips against her upper leg. "I would let you go if you wanted."

"You don't understand." An exasperated sigh emanated from her mouth as the Rowdyruff Girl's legs parted of their own accord—in reaction to Brick's touch. "Today..."

"Yes?" Brick prompted, maneuvering himself, so that his upper torso was settled betwixt Blossom's long legs.

"I just wanted to _impress_ you."


	25. How it Ends

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.**

 **But hey, who's excited for the new Powerpuff Girls show that premieres tomorrow? Let me know what you're all hoping for the upcoming continuation!**

 **Author's Note: Just a short one here. "Mama Do" by Pixie Lott.**

* * *

 _What would my Mama do_

 _If she knew about me and you?_

 _What would my Daddy say_

 _If he saw me hurt this way?_

"You know, sweetheart, you really didn't have to go through all of this trouble," a sickly Blossom told her tremendously sweet boyfriend, who had decided to pay a visit to the Utonium residence after school.

"Nonsense," Brick replied with a handsome grin, scooping some tomato basil soup onto a spoon and fed the warm liquid to her. "I had to make it up to you."

"Make what up to me?" Blossom queried in perplexity, accepting spoonful after spoonful of delicious soup.

"It's my fault you're sick," the red Rowdyruff Boy answered, setting the lukewarm bowl on Blossom's nightstand right next to the dimmed lamp. "You spent this past weekend nursing me back to health, and now you've caught my flu."

"Aren't you afraid of catching it again?"

"Nah. You're worth it."

If it weren't for the colossal fact that she felt dreadfully ill, Blossom would have given Brick a peck on the cheek. "Well, thank you for returning the favor. I'm pleased you came through for me," she murmured while snuggle deeper from her cozy, toasty-warm covers; Brick had recently put them in the dryer to warm them up for Blossom.

"How are you feeling, by the way?" Brick questioned, tenderly combing his long, skinny digits through the Powerpuff Girl's uncouth, frizzy bangs. "Do you need me to do anything else for you, baby?"

In spite of the nauseating knot boiling in the pit of her stomach, a vibrant and tranquil smile spread across Blossom's face, from cheek-to-cheek. "I could request anything more from you, Brick. You've already been so generous."

"Maybe I have an ulterior motive."

"And what would that be?"

"I want you to keep me around." His signature, bad boy smile gave her heart wings, causing the beat to vehemently flutter.

"I never considered getting rid of you," Blossom retorted. Her temperature skyrocketed, especially within her cheeks as Brick flirted with the paler version of her former self.

"If only you could say the same for everyone in this household," Brick muttered, careful to keep his statement out of Professor Utonium's ears.

Grimacing, Blossom concurred with Brick's all too correct point. "The professor doesn't mind you as much as you think, honey, but he probably felt a little upstaged by you when you came over today. Until you arrived, he'd be the one taking care of me all day."

Brick expelled a hearty chuckle, the merry sound quite warm-hearted. "The poor professor."

"What's so funny?" Blossom inquired the cackling hyena, bemused by his continuous laughter.

"Nothing." But he continued to laugh, which failed to convinced Blossom.

Quirking an eyebrow in curiosity, the pink Powerpuff said, "You're not supposed to lie to someone who has had their immune system compromised."

"I was just wondering if I'll be like the professor when we have a daughter one day," Brick answered, sheepishly scratching the back of his head as a blush tinged his cheeks hibiscus-pink.

Whatever reply Blossom was anticipating, it had not been _that_. She had no idea that Brick mulled over those kinds of things—their future together, the children they would someday have...

Before she could answer him, a sharp, stern voice interrupted the couple's conversation. "Hopefully, that day won't come for a very long time," Professor Utonium uttered, standing in the center of the doorway.

"Of course," Brick agreed nervously, grabbing the bowl of soup. "Um, I'm gonna go reheat this. Be right back!" Brick all but darted out the bedroom, passed the white coat-clad scientist.

"Goodness, Professor, you didn't have to frighten him so much," Blossom griped playfully, somewhat giggling.

"I didn't mean to. I was merely joking around with the boy, albeit quite dryly," he retorted, sitting down on the desk chair placed at her bedside. "Blossom... You are sick with the flu, right? You're not-"

"No," Blossom responded, hastily cutting Professor Utonium off before he could finish the rest of that thought. "Of course not, Professor. Good lord."

Exhaling a sigh of relief, he smiled. "I just needed to make sure." Nodding, Blossom mirrored his expression, but remained silent.

"I'm back," the leader of the Rowdyruff Boys announced, his return hesitant.

"I'll leave you two alone then. Just leave the door open," the professor commanded, giving his daughter's boyfriend a wintery glower, then exited the room.

"Ghosts, monsters, spiders, Boomer's terrible morning breath, the idea of being buried beneath an enormous pile of student debt—those things don't really scare me," Brick stated, his expression dripping with anxiety.

"But the professor does?" his girlfriend teased.

With Brick's pupils widening ever-so slightly, he nodded. The fact was clear as day. "Oh, yeah."


	26. We All Have a Story to Tell

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, your friendly neighborhood fanfiction writer!**

 **Author's Note: Bit of background before Blossom and Brick's break-up. I shall include a bit of more background for Berserk's side of the story as well later on. Enjoy!**

 **Author's Note # 2: Mess I Made by Parachute.**

* * *

 _Should've kissed you there_

 _I should've held your face_

 _I should've watched those eyes_

 _Instead of run in place_

 _I should've called you out_

 _I should've said your name_

 _I should've turned around_

 _I should've looked again_

The feelings between Blossom and Brick weren't always so strained. Their relationship—their bond—started out strong.

For the first time in his life, the reckless Rowdyruff Boy could calmly stand still, in one place, with one girl. He did not have to be some hardened criminal, who flew about Townsville to bring buildings to ruin or to steal stuff; sometimes, when he was with Blossom, he could even be the hero. With Blossom, Brick getting to know a different side of himself—a side that could be vulnerable and valiant. It was all brand new. Brick was somewhat of a player, and therefore had dated most of the female student body at Pokey Oaks High School, but now all of that time felt wasted. He could have been dating the Powerpuff Girl leader all along.

Everything was different with Blossom; _he_ was different and strange. He was enraptured with her—irrevocably, insanely into her. Brick wanted to spend all of his free time with Blossom—he was lost, spellbound, whenever Blossom spoke of her scientific research, and he loved seeing her beautiful face light up, one hundred percent giddy when he asked her questions.

Then, one day, Brick suddenly realized that he was in love with Blossom. Love was foreign sensation to him. The teenage boy, who wasn't the lovey-dovey type of guy, was far from accustomed to having his heart pound erratically when his girlfriend so much as crossed his mind. He was at a loss for what needed to be done—if anything should be done or _said_.

"Is everything okay?" Blossom questioned suddenly, her voice wracked with concerned, as she stared at Brick perplexively.

"Yeah," he answered, his previous thoughts halting to a screeching stop. "Why?"

"You've been glowering at the television for almost a half hour," the head Powerpuff Girl pointed out matter-of-factually. "It appeared as though you were thinking hard about something."

"Not really," Brick fibbed coolly, slumping his arm over his girlfriend's lower back and pulled her in closer to him, while they laid on his bed. "I'm just concentrating on the movie."

Not quite convinced yet, a slight, almost microscopic, crease formed betwixt the young girl's copper eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

"I'm fine." That wasn't a lie at least. "I've never seen this movie before. I'm very concerned for the mermaid's well-being. I mean, how is she supposed to communicate with the prince and tell him how she feels without her voice?"

Scrunching up her nose, a bubbly giggle was emitted from Blossom's vocal chords. "You're such a dork."

"You adore me," he lightheartedly teased, attaching his lips to hers for a sweet kiss.

It was a challenge not to get caught up in the moment—to guide an instance of innocence into the bewildering heat of passion, especially since they were comfortably nestled in his king-sized bed. No one else was a around. But Brick contented himself with the wonderful sensation of Blossom repeatedly molding the contours of her lips to his as the film slipped into a sappy music number in the background.

"I love you," Blossom whispered against her boyfriend's mouth, her tone saturated with sugary sweetness. She did not stumble around her words like he would have. Her statement was made with certainty and and clarity.

And Brick was in love with Blossom right back, but now, he felt as though she were confronting him—pressuring him—as those magenta eyes expectantly studied him. An enormous weight was riding upon his shoulders. Maybe he didn't love Blossom after all. How could she have been so self-centered and put this kind of pressure on him, on their relationship? His silent musings were becoming irrational, and there was a fraction of Brick that was aware that he was merely nervous, but the Rowdyruff Boy could barely concentrate when his palms were suddenly slick with sweat, as his heartbeat clammered like thunder in his ears.

"Um," I'm hungry," Brick said, cocking his head to the side in confusion. "Do you, um, want to order Chinese food or something?"

It was only for a nanosecond—if Brick had blinked, he would have missed it—but Blossom's expression contorted into a look of pain, as though she had been utterly rejected and might tear up as a result.

In the next second, her face was neutral. "Sure. Do you want me to pay?"

"Nah. Just sit tight. I'm gonna go order it. Do you want your usual?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"No problem."

"I'll be right back."

"Okay..."

. . .

Jesus Christ. What the fuck was wrong with him? Brick mentally berated himself for the rest of the weekend, unable to remember why he chickened out. He knew that he was in love with Blossom, and he should have told her that night. He should have spoken up with an air of pride and devotion. _I love you, too, Blososm._ Why? Why couldn't he just say the words? Brick supposed the mistake didn't matter, or at least it wouldn't for much longer, because he fully intended to rectify the situation on Monday morning.

With that plan in mind, Brick made his way through the high school's various stairwells and hallways. His destination was Blossom's locker. He was going to tell Blossom that he was in love with her, and then they would consummate his confession of undying love underneath the bleachers during their gym period. It was, granted, a simple plan, but effective.

But as Brick neared the second floor lockers, his determined stride paused.

One of Blossom's friends, someone by the name of Dexter or whatever, was idly conversing with her. They were chatting and laughing and having a good, old time. Now, Brick was not the jealous or suspicious type of guy, he trusted Blossom. Besides that, Brick had encountered Dexter numerous times before. From what the teenage delinquent could gather, the science prodigy was more concerned with technological mumbo jumbo than he was with the opposite sex. It was safe to assume that the boy and girl geniuses were like forces, and were thus repelled by each other romantically. Yet, a disturbing thought crept inside of Brick's head—they looked good together. They made sense together, while the red Rowdyruff Boy and the pink Powerpuff Girl did not. Then, almost out of nowhere, the school was filled with guys more deserving of Blossom's love than Brick.

"I'll catch you later, Dex," Blossom said politely, brushing passed him and rushed over to her boyfriend. "Good morning, sweetie.

"Um, hey," he stammered as Blossom stood on her tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Did you have a good weekend?"

"No monsters or mayhem to stop, so I got plenty of rest," she retorted chipperly, absentmindedly patting Brick's popped collar. "What about you?"

"Pretty good," Brick replied, unaware of his perturbed, harsh tone. "Boring, though."

"Why didn't you come over? I could have provided you with a good amount of entertainment, I think," Blossom retorted suggestively.

"Didn't want to."

"Oh, Okay then..."

Any awkward silence befell the dynamic due. Studiously, Blossom looked at her boyfriend's unreadable expression, while his scarlet eyes were cast downward. The school bell rang out, warning the students that there were only five minutes left to hall ass to their first period classes.

"I'll see you at lunch, honey," Blossom said brightly, moving closer to him for a kiss.

"Yeah." Lost in a fog of insecurity, Brick reluctantly pecked his girlfriend on the lips; it was nothing like their usual morning kisses.

"I... I love you," Blossom stated, attempting to comfort him—sensing that he was somehow frustrated with himself, not her. "Only you."

There was a question echoing through Brick's mind: _why? Why me?_ But he didn't ask or reply to his girlfriend's honesty at all.

He just walked away.

. . .

Things between them worsened from there. Brick and Blossom still hung out frequently, but the comfortable air grew tense. Awkward. Uncomfortable. The latter half of the teenage couple would make attempt after attempt to communicate rationally and civilly by asking him questions about his day, schoolwork, the weather—desperate to start actual conversations. At first, Blossom was successful in breaking her boyfriend away from his sour moods; once the ice was broken, they were able to talk about topics that actually interested them. And then, Brick began replying with short word answers—nothing with enough to bulk to respond to herself, so they would spend their time together in silence. There were no more deep discussions; there was no more cuddling, hand-holding, late-night phone conversations, or suggestive texts. Just silence. Yet, each time they parted ways, Blossom spoke her feelings. She loved him. The more Blossom said so, the sweeter it sounded. The sweeter it sounded, the more unbelievable his own feelings seemed. And then, Brick stopped answered Blossom's pathetic conversation starters altogether.

Again, things became worse.

As Brick regressed and returned to his old ways, the deafening quiet turned into thunderous, incessant arguing. Blossom knew that he had a good heart buried deep underneath the bad boy facade; he was better than the petty crimes he continued to commit. _So what_ , the bad boy in question would fire back. It wasn't an argument with a lot of ground. Both sides were convinced that they were right. How could their be any room for compromise when she was a crime-fighter and he was a crime-causer? Still, Blossom pontificated Brick—trying to be inspirational, and motivate him to be a better person, to be the person she first fell in love with. All he had to do was try a little harder.

But Brick no longer desired to reach the pink Powerpuff Girl's standards or expectations. He wanted Blossom to accept him for who he was; he wanted Blossom's love only if it was unconditional. So, Brick continued to test Blossom's patience. He kept pushing her further and further away, until their backs were slammed against a wall.

"Hey," Blossom greeted her boyfriend, shyly waving one hand as the other one fiddled with a tangerine tendril.

It was yet another Friday night at Brick's home. Unlike all the other previous Friday nights, the Powerpuff did not step through the doorway. Brick had a distinct, sinking feelings that she had no intention of passing through the door way.

Shrugging nonchalantly, the red Rowdyruff Boy responded with a lackluster, "Hey. Um, are you coming inside?"

An exasperated sigh emanated from Blossom's chest as her bubblegum-colored gaze feel to the doormat between their feet. When she finally met Brick's stare again, her eyes were stained in salty, abundant tears. "I love you, Brick."

But Brick remained quiet, his expression neutral. Nothing. He said nothing. In spite of his non-reply, Blossom nodded. There was a strained smile draped across her lips, as Brick was frozen in place. He wanted to reach out and thumb away the tears from her reddened cheeks, but he didn't. Oh, god, why did he not? The best Brick could muster was a bitter glower. His scarlet orbs darkened to ruby. There was a strange knot swelling in the back of his throat as his heart plummeted into the acidy pit of his stomach.

"It's over," Blossom stated, forcing the words from her mouth.

 _What? No!_ "Fine," he said, and shut the door in her face.

On opposite sides of the door, Brick and Blossom lingered. The former closed his eyes tightly, stifling his own tears. He pressed his forehead against the cold wood, listening to the sounds of his now ex-girlfriend sobbing just outside. All he needed to do to fix everything was admit his feelings.

Eventually, Brick worked up the courage. He flung the door open, at last realizing his foolishness. "Blossom, I lo-"

She was gone.

 _But, oh_

 _I'm staring at the mess I made_

 _I'm staring at the mess I made_

 _I'm staring at the mess I made_

 _As you turn_

 _You take your heart and walk away_


	27. Whether We Whisper or Yell

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.**

 **Author's Note: "She is Love" by Parachute.**

* * *

 _They call her love, love, love, love_

 _They call her love, love, love, love_

 _She is love_

 _And she is all I need_

Blossom Jojo, the leader of the Powerpuff Girls and the prime example of morality, busily paced back and forth in the living room. Her mind was somewhat plagued by the fact that she would inevitably have to tell her sisters that she would soon need to retire her pink and black uniform, at least for the next couple of months.

Mostly, though, the twenty-four year-old woman was surpassingly ecstatic, stuck in an absolute daze of merriment. Her movements across the living room were caused by restlessness; in order to get her knees to cease their incessant trembling, Blossom needed to walk. However, between every few moments, her mundane steps to and from would transform into graceful, yet energetic, twirls.

Currently, she was waiting for her husband to return home from the typical monster fight, since he now had to pick up her slack. The poor thing. For the past few weeks, Brick had graciously filled in for Blossom, since she had been exhibiting strange signs of the stomach flu, like nausea and fatigue. Well, Blossom had finally mustered up the strength to visit a physician early today. After a few blood tests, it was official; Blossom's first order of business was telling Brick.

"Blossom!" Suddenly, she heard her name being shouted from the opposite side of the front door. "Baby, can you open up? I forget my house key!"

"Coming!" she replied in a sing-song voice, flittering down the hallway, and then flung the door wide open. Grabbing her husband by the collar of his red t-shirt, the pink Powerpuff Girl elatedly latched her mouth onto Brick's, who was immediately responsive to her advances. As his skillful tongue explore the warm contours of Blossom's needy mouth, his fingertips mercilessly dug into her backside, over the soft fabric of her silk nightgown, then delivered a sharp smack against his wife's ass.. A noise somewhere between a mewl and giggle resonated from Blossom's vocal chords.

"Easy tiger," Blossom gently murmured, pulling away before either of them became too distracted.

"Fucking cocktease," Brick groaned, disappointed, and walked into the living room.

"You love me."

"I do."

The commanding Rowdyruff Boy plopped down in the middle of the couch, kicked off his shoes, and elevated his feet to rest on the ottoman. Blossom walked around the back of the sofa and leaned down, her hands kneading Brick's knotted shoulder muscles. "And I love you, too."

Expelling a contented 'hmmm' of appreciation, Brick's eyelids sunk closed. "God, baby, you are heaven-sent. I'm so glad you're mind."

"Do you mean that Brick?" Blossom queried, a touch of wondrous curiosity laced through her tone, even though she knew all too well what his answer would be.

"Yes." Tenderly, Brick grabbed Blossom by the hand, always comforted by the soft texture of her skin, and pressed his lips against the top. "Sit down with me."

Of course, Blossom happily granted his request. "You're the best."

Chuckling lightheartedly, Brick snaked an arm around his wife's shoulders and snuggled her into his side. "Aren't you just a cute, little bundle of affection today? I take it your doctor's visit went well."

True, Blossom had wanted her announcement to be more romantic, but she couldn't hold it in any longer. "Brick, sweetheart... We're going to have a baby!" she bursted out about ten seconds later.

Brick blankly stared at Blossom. One, full minute later, his eyebrows began to lower, puzzlement progressing into registration. Ten seconds after that, Brick was beaming at her. "Are you serious?" he asked, a goofy grin plastered to his face.

"Mm-hmm!" Blossom nodded giddily, absentmindedly stroking Brick's chest. "We're going to be parents very soon."

"Woo-hoo!" Brick exclaimed, practically leaping off the couch, and tugged Blossom into his strong arms. He just wanted to hold her, as a surge of pride and utter, panicked excitement overcame him. "You were wrong before."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

Brick rested his forehead against Blossom's, his bourbon gaze studying the various array of pink shades of his wife's eyes. To him, she was the sexiest, most beautiful woman on the planet. No other woman could compare, and now, their love was actually creating something—someone. "You are, without a doubt, the best."

. . .

Several months later, a very pregnant Blossom was perched upon the edge of the bed, savoring the fleeting moments before she would inevitably have to get up and use the bathroom again. She emitted a giggle after giggle, listening to Brick coo adoringly at her protruding belly.

"Yes, you're such a big girl now. Mommy can't even see her cute feet anymore," Brick said, nuzzling his face against Blossom's stomach.

Shifting a tad bit, Blossom was starting to feel uncomfortable from the non-stop moving within her stomach. "Brick..."

It was no use. He wasn't paying any attention to her. Thankfully, the baby girl incubating inside of her already knew how to stand up to her father.

"Any day now—that's what the doctor said," Brick cooed lovingly. "You're going to be so-" Right in the middle of his statement, the baby gave a strong kick against her mother's belly and successfully knocked her father away from her.

"Haha... Atta girl." Blossom chortled, caressing her round stomach, where her baby pressed its hand—kind of like a high-five between mother and daughter.

Just a hint disoriented, Brick composed himself and returned to his position near Blossom, though he safely kept his distance from her torso. "That was so rude! Were you two conspiring against me?"

"Guilty as charged," the Pregnantpuff retorted mockingly. Her amuse was abruptly cut short at a sharp pang rumbled through her body. "Ow..." she whimpered.

"Blossom," Brick murmured, sitting on the bed with his wife. He placed a tender kiss upon her temple and rubbed her back, knowing how her spine typically ached. "Are you okay?"

"Peachy," she answered, honestly. Her body was wracked with pain, but it was a wonderful kind of pain. In spite of the beads of perspiration dripping down from her forehead, her skin was glowing beautifully. "Are you ready to become a father, Brick?"

"I'm ready if you are... Um, are you ready?"

Blossom could only respond to Brick with a small, yet unbelievably bright smile.


	28. We All Have a Story

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, but sometimes I wish that I could invent a time machine and give Craig McCracken the idea to return to the Powerpuff Girls.**

 **Author's Note: "Savages" by Breathe Carolina.**

* * *

 _Shape shift begin_

 _You've lost the fear_

 _You found a friend_

 _You're safe in here_

 _Body starts to give in_

 _Try to keep your eyes open_

 _This is where you breathe in_

 _Right now, you're one of us_

Inhaling the night's frigid air and then exhaling, the once beloved Powerpuff Girl leader watched the party below her, standing on the balcony attached outside of her bedroom on the second floor. The party, thrown by her new comrades in arms, was all in her honor—to celebrate her turn to the 'dark side.' A large crowd of party-goers were pumping their fists to the beat out in the courtyard—Mojo Jojo, Him, Fuzzy Lumpkins, the Gangrene Gang, and an assortment of other criminals Blossom once encountered and defeated before.

It was weird, like entering an alternate universe, to see most of her former enemies all collected in one place; Blossom was bemused and humbled by how accepting they all were of her. So unexpectedly kind and understanding of what Princess had put her through.

How could a parade of monsters and villains show Blossom more sympathy than Blossom's precious humanity?

Had she been protecting the wrong people all this time?

Lost in a contemplative daze, Blossom took a tiny sip of water from the plastic cup being held in her hand, and didn't even hear how the glass door slid open.

"Hey," Brick muttered nonchalantly, leaning on the metal banister alongside her.

"Hey," she nodded to him in acknowledgment, her skin flooded with ease and comfort simply because of his presence. "Why aren't you downstairs enjoying yourself?"

"I could ask you the same question. It's your party, after all," the red Rowdyruff Boy retorted, shrugging. "Is something the matter?"

"I was just thinking..." Blossom trailed off as Brick shamelessly snaked his arm around her shoulders, drawing her warmly inside his side.

"What were you thinking about?" Brick questioned, grinning broadly when she second-naturedly rested her exhausted head upon the top of his shoulder.

"I don't deserve any of this—this acceptance... I'm supposed to be their enemy." Right? She and her sisters were created to be crime-fighters. Abandoning her morals and her actual reason for existing in the first place was the easy part—turning her back on her family and the only world she ever knew. Grappling with the sudden nature of it all was the hard part.

"Do you want to know why I love you so much?"

"I could use a bit of a pep talk, sure."

"I love you, because you belong only to yourself," Brick elucidated affectionately, while they both turned to face one another. "You're not apart of one world. Right now, you keep yourself on the outside looking in. I love you, because your goodness endures, even when you're taking a walk on the wild side."

"I want to stay here with you." Her cheeks were engulfed in cherry-pink as she spoke the words, the statement opposing Brick's. "I never want to be a Powerpuff Girl again." Part of Blossom couldn't believe what she was saying.

"I know," Brick said, his forehead pressed against hers. "I want you here just as much. I want you to rely on me." Still, there was something gnawing at him in the back of his brain, something that made his chest swell with worry. "If you're ever having second thoughts-"

"I'm not," Blossom interjected, quieting his doubt by lifting two digits to his lips, and gave him a sincere simper.

Her words were earnest, but Blossom wish should could make her boyfriend (?) understand what she was going through. It wasn't that she felt regretful, sad, or in any way upset; it was just that...who she was, or rather what she used to be, felt compelled to revert back to a destiny she no longer desired. Blossom supposed, as well as prayed, that touch of humanity would evaporate from her system in time.

"Will you dance with me?" Brick inquired, jumping a few feet back and playfully bowed to her, and extended his hand for hers.

"I'm there are songs that have been written about this."

"About what?" he questioned, a gleeful smirk smoldering in the depthy rings of his blood-colored irises, his eyes highlighted by the serene glow of the full moon. He somewhat reminded Blossom of a fallen angel—a demon—tempting her to sin, and continue to sin.

"About dancing with the devil," Blossom replied, feeling a gravitational pull toward him, her slender fingers being clasped by his.

The couple made their way downstairs, returning to the thunderous commotion of Blossom's celebratory soiree. Everyone was having the time of their lives—drinking, eating, smoking, and dancing. No one could ever claim that the Rowdyruff Boys didn't know how to through a good party.

"Heeey," Butch slurred, popping up practically out of nowhere. He swung his arm over Brick's shoulder, his breath heavily scented with beer and corn nuts. "This is one helluva rager, bro... Sis!" he shouted, spotting Blossom as well.

"Sis?" Blossom and Brick echoed in unison, both of their expressions quizzical.

"Suuure, yeeaahh..." The green Rowdyruff Boy paused momentarily, letting loose a hideous belch. "You're one of us now, Bloss. You're one of the guys. Well, not quite one of the guys. You're definitely hotter than any guy. 'Cept me, of course."

"I appreciate your friendship, Butch," Blossom nodded politely.

"Get off me, man!" Brick harshly shoved his brother away from himself. "You smell like a New York taxi cab. Jesus. Go sober up or something."

"No way. The night is still young." With that established, Butch disappeared into the ocean of party-goers.

Finally, a new song began to blare from the speakers, one that was upbeat and wild. Blossom linked her arms over the tops of Brick's masculine shoulders when he drew her petite body in closer to his wider frame, their torsos pressed intimately together. Their mouths, on the other hand, were a few inches away from each other, but still within a close enough proximity that Blossom could feel his warm breath upon her lips—she could smell the mint from inside his mouth, and then the pink Rowdyruff Girl and the red Rowdyruff Boy started to move, their movements somehow synchronized to the music's beat and to the loud, roaring beats of their own hearts.

Brick's demon orbs, like two, identical spheres of hellfire, gazed into Blossom's violet eyes, the seering heat betwixt their stare caused trickles of sweat to trail down his forehead; he was...nervous. And aroused. He leaned her back, just a little, his face devilishly delved between her soft, supple, and bountiful cleavage, as his left knee slid between her legs, before his teeth sunk into the bare slope of her chest. Then, the fiendish, young man brought Blossom back up, twisting her around so that his hips could gingerly grind against her ass cheeks. Breathless, the formerly innocent snowflake inwardly fought with herself—trying to force her scrambled brain to catch up with the lightning speed of her steps—yet, it was useless. Her mind was stuck in a tizzy, as Brick cleverly manipulated the gyration of her dancing body. It appeared she had no choice but to go with it and follow his lead, allowing his giant, strong hands to caress specific, intimate parts of her body—in front of dozens of people.

"Don't stop," Blossom whispered, short of breath, while she hooked an arm backward over his clavicle and rested her hand against his neck. Fuck, she wanted Brick to take her to another world.

Grinning handsomely against Blossom's flushed cheek, Brick growled, "Just hold on, pretty flower. I've got you."

 _Wolves in our skin_

 _(What?)_

 _We're savages_

 _We act so primitive_

 _(What?)_

 _We're savages_

 _Do the rain dance_

 _Like you're on fire_

 _Like you're on fire_

 _We're savages_


	29. Of Adolescence

**Disclaimer: None of the following characters belong to me.**

 **Author's Note: This was a bit of a long one to write. That's probably because I debated with the idea of writing a Berserk and Brick lemon, but I decided against it, because I just don't have the heart to dabble in lemons outside of the Br/Bl ship, at least regarding PPG, but I just kind of wrote the gist of basic sex. Hopefully that's good enough. Tell me what you thought of it, on a scale of wonderbread bland to completely awful!**

 **Author's Note # 2: "9 Crimes" by Damien Rice.**

* * *

 _Leave me out with the waste_

 _This is not what I do_

 _It's the wrong kind of place to be_

 _Cheating on you_

 _It's a small crime_

 _She's pulling me through_

 _And I've got no excuse_

He found her in the library just after school, alone, performing her daily chores. She worked as the librarian's assistant due to Pokey Oak's recommended community service program (or rather, served as a means to keep the more troublesome students from spray-painting any buildings, or getting themselves into general mischief).

Fortunately, while she wasn't much of a bookworm, there was something about the library that gave her a sense of tranquility. It could have been the warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee emanating from the teachers lounge, the utter lack of sound, with the exception of books sliding into their rightful places on the shelves, or perhaps she simply enjoyed being by herself.

After all, she wasn't too keen on interacting with most people. She always said that she hated hated people—they were petty and dishonest, but he saw passed her facade. She didn't avoid people because she hated them. Berserk was afraid of them; she feared getting hurt by someone.

Brick paused mid-stride, silently observing Berserk's peaceful state, as she organized the romance section. She had been hurt by him. The realization made him cringe. He had many things to make up for. He...should have never taken advantage of Berserk's sympathy in the way that he did; it was a shitty thing for him to do. Berserk looked like Blossom, but she wasn't Blossom, not at all, and he should have never pretended otherwise.

Not too long ago, the Powerpunk Girl was his friend—a very good friend—who generously volunteered her compassion and understanding when his heart was swollen from regret and sorrow over his break-up. The leader of the Rowdyruff Boys selfishly took whatever she would give him and them.

. . .

"I messed up big time," Brick admitted deflatedly, sharply inhaling the smoke from his cigarette into his burning lungs. It had been two months since he last smoked.

"It sounds like you still really love her..." Berserk trailed off uncomfortably, an odd twinge laced through her tone.

The red Rowdyruff Boy and the pink Powerpunk Girl were hanging out on the school's rooftop like they always did during lunchtime. Recently, it had become a genuine highlight during Brick's average school day. He enjoyed talking with Berserk. She didn't annoy the fuck out of him like Princess did, the Powerpuff wannabe.

"So, why are you dating Princess?" Berserk continued, earnestly curious.

"I know that it pisses off Blossom," Brick retorted, wearing a partial devil-may-care smirk; he somewhat enjoyed making Blossom jealous.

"How petty of you," Berserk commented sourly with an irritated roll of her eyes. "If only you could harness all that energy and attention on Blossom in a more positive manner." She walked to the rooftop's edge, staring down at the crowds and cliques below with a disdainful expression. Then, she glanced over her shoulder at Brick with a teasing, crooked smile. "Who knows? You might be able to get her back. Or maybe you should invent a time travel machine and never screw up in the first place."

She sounded so much like Blossom in that moment, not only in her voice, but also in the words that she used as well—so much so that Brick was taken aback by it. "I don't know that I want to get back together with Blossom," the redheaded teenager said, removing the baseball cap from his head to scratch his scalp sheepishly.

Berserk turned to face him, a dubious expression adorned her facial features. "Blossom is all you ever talk about."

"Well..." Brick wasn't sure how to explain what he meant to his ex-girlfriend's bad ass doppleganger. "If the opportunity presented itself, I can see myself jumping at the chance."

"I think that's proof enough that you want to get back together." Berserk crossed her arms over her chest, quiet trying to asses what Brick was getting at. "You don't want to be the one to grovel. You want Blossom to present the opportunity to you, because that would be the equivalent of confessing she was wrong to dump your sorry ass."

"Basically," Brick confirmed, caught off-guard by her blunt ending.

"You're such a douche, Brick."

"Excuse me?"

"Instead of simply admitting your guilt in all of this and swallowing your pride, you want Blossom to fess up to her feelings when she did absolutely nothing wrong! How conceited are you?" Berserk questioned earnestly, though her tone was somewhat bitter as well.

"Wait. Hold on. Why are you getting upset me? You're supposed to hate Blossom," he reminded her.

"I do!" the pink Powerpunk Girl insisted with a heavy, sharp groan. "The kind of shit you pull is forcing me to defend that goody-good, do-gooder brat, and that's the worst thing of all—you being a big enough asshole for me to sympathize with her." She exhaled, regaining some composure after her rant. "More importantly, you're my friend. I'd hate it if you let your stupid ego and pride keep you from being with the girl you love."

A lemonade-pink blush tinged Berserk's cheeks, perhaps out of embarrassment. It couldn't have been easy to practically admitting that she cared about something who was probably notorious for being his own worst enemy.

"It's not just my ego, Berserk," Brick retorted slowly, feeling an invisible hand begin to harshly squeeze at his heart as he spoke the words.

"What else could it be?" she asked, looking so very much like Blossom that merely standing there, gazing at Berserk, pained him. "Brick...?"

"I can't crawl back to Blossom, because I know her. I know she won't want to listen to me." Or at least, that's what Brick feared.

"I think she will if you're honest and sincere. If you can prove that you've changed, Blossom will fall in love with you all over again," Berserk advised hesitantly, choking on her own words.

"I... can't."

"Why not?"

Gazing at Berserk, Brick carefully studied every inch of her face—from the sweet curves of her raspberry-colored lips, to the beautiful, smooth, magenta of her irises. _So much like Blossom_. "Because I have you know."

Bemused by Brick's admission, Berserk blinked rapidly. "What the hell does that even mean?"

Fuck. Had he said that out loud? "I don't really know what I mean... I think I can get over Blossom. When I'm with you, I feel better. _You_ make me feel better, Berserk."

"Heh." Nervously shifting her weight from foot to foot, Berserk twirled the loose strands of red ribbon around her index finger. "We're friends, I guess, and friends are supposed to be there for each other." She paused for a moment, unraveling the thick, scarlet silk from her digit. "So, do you want to hang out tonight?"

"Sorry, Berserk, but I can't. I already promised my idiot brothers that I would go drinking with them," Brick said with an apologetic, sheepish grin. "You wanna do something this weekend?"

Berserk shrugged, then nodded. "Sure. We can watch a movie at my place?"

"That sounds good."

"Cool."

"Yeah... Cool. It's kind of like a date," Brick joked, completely oblivious to the way Berserk's skipped a beat at dangerous, intangible thought.

. . .

All the odds were suddenly stacked against him. It was no use. Brick was officially an idiot. He was ashamed for what he had done the night before—drunkenly confessing to Blossom that he loved her. What the fuck was he thinking? God, he not only managed to make himself look like a sappy, lovesick fool in front of Butch and Boomer, but he also also succeeded in adding more tension between himself and Blossom. It was enough incentive to make the young, moronic boy wish he could completely erase his feelings for the head Powerpuff Girl, and give up the fantasy of ever rekindling their flame.

What a stupid idea.

Oh, well, he supposed. There was nothing he could do to change the past. Besides, Brick had plans to hang out with a good friend tonight, so he was sure that his mind would become distracted by Berserk's pleasant company, and maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't catch him pretending that she was Blossom...

"W-W-Wow, Berserk! You look incredible!" Brick exclaimed, both eyebrows jumping up to his forehead when he greedily soaked in the image of her sexy form into his retinas.

"I thought you might like this outfit," Berserk replied flirtatiously, gesturing to her ensemble. She wore a fishnet dress, with a few strategically-placed tears and slits around her collarbone and navel, a black pair of denim shorts, and deep-pink, lacy bra—very, very revealing.

Sweet mother of God, Brick was stunned by the tempting sight of the deep, plunging line of her cleavage. His mouth watered. Every magnificent inch of her body—every curve and every line—was identical to Blossom's. That was his most forbidden thought, one he promised himself that he would never speak aloud.

"You don't look like you're ready to watch movies." Only those movies happened to be rated NC-17. Jesus Christ.

"Oh, I'm ready. I just thought I would doll myself up for you."

"You really didn't have to go through all the trouble."

"Believe me, Brick, it was no trouble at all."

And so, Berserk led Brick upstairs to her bedroom for a night of easygoing fun and relaxation. As they climbed their way up the staircase, Brick, being a red-blooded young man with an active appetite, couldn't keep his hot, burgundy gaze from falling to the pink Powerpunk Girl's agreeably-sized backside. Already, he was busting to undress her.

"What movie do you want to watch first?" Berserk asked as they entered her bedroom, safe from the watchful eyes of her family.

"Fuck the movies!" Brick shouted in raspy excitement, a husky growl emanating from his throat. He grabbed the petite girl by the hips and shoved against the door, slamming it shut. "God fucking damn it," he muttered, inwardly cursing himself for giving into temptation like this, "why did you have to dress like that? You look good enough to eat."

"I was hoping you'd say something like that." She giggled, the delightful, little sound reminding him of Blossom, as Brick hiked up both of Berserk's legs and encircled them tightly around his hips.

"Are you telling that you wanted all of this? You wanted me to fuck you." He chuckled, pressing his boner deep between the center of her legs, and the pleasurable sensation elicited a guttural groan from both of them. "Well, I'm about to grant your wish, Mistress Mine."

 _Yet, as the saying goes, 'Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it.'_ What an appropriate saying.

That night, Brick and Berserk fucked each other like there was no tomorrow. Luckily for him, when he finally managed to rid Berserk from her seductive attire, it wasn't particularly difficult to imagine her Powerpuff Girl counterpart taking her place. When Brick brought his mouth to hers and forced his tongue passed her sweet-tasting lips, it was Blossom that he was truly kissed. When Brick attentively listened to the lustful mewls Berserk emitted, it was Blossom who was moaning out from the heat and intensity from her orgasms. When his cock pounded into Berserk's wet pussy with volcanic rage, it was Blossom he was vigorously and passionately fucking.

 _Blossom, Blossom, Blossom_.

Every time he came, the Rowdyruff had to bite down on his tongue to keep the incorrect name off his lips.

Brick liked Berserk, and he had enough respect for her to keep her from finding out she was nothing but a Blossom substitute; although, it was definitely possible that he had his own ulterior motives in concealing the truth from her.

"I'm sorry, Blossom," he whispered to Berserk, who was fast asleep between his arms. Brick released a weighty sigh as he tucked a strand of auburn hair behind the shell of her ear. He should probably take off soon, before she awoke. He just had a few things he needed to get off his chest first. "I... I do like you, Berserk. A lot. God, you're incredible, but I'm so fucked up."

For awhile, after that night, Rowdyruff Boy and the Powerpunk Girl went from buddies to fuck buddies. Each time Berserk screamed for him, it was easier to believe that she was someone else. He loved his nights with Berserk, mimicking and recalling every touch, taste, and sound from the moments he spent with the actual love of his life. With Berserk, Brick didn't have to miss the pure, raw power of sex, before he had to go and fall in love... His "side chick" was more than an adequate replacement. She was the perfect replica, or would have been if the gaping, empty hole wasn't a constant reminder that he and Blossom were no longer together.

. . .

"I just couldn't stand her annoying blather anymore," Brick deliberated to Berserk one evening after sneaking through her bedroom window—reminiscent of the romantic gestures he used to perform for Blossom.

"I can't blame you. Princess sure likes to talk," Berserk concurred, listening to her friend's story while simultaneously flipping through a magazine. "Still, weren't you the one that said dating her was farce all this time?"

Ignoring her valid point, Brick knelt down before Berserk, who was perched on the foot of the bed. "I think Princess knew."

"Knew?" Berserk echoed quizzically. "Knew about what?"

"About us, and what we've been up to."

"There is no 'us' or 'we' to know about, Brick."

"There could be."

"What are you saying."

"I like you," Brick said.

The truth was, however, that he was slowly slipping into insanity. He and Blossom were on civil terms now, stopping to chat to each other every so often in the school hallways. It amazed him how quick interactions could mean so much to him, and how those precious, flickering moments yanked at his heartstrings. He started to realize that he missed the other, better half of whatever soul he had—more and more with every breath he took, no matter how many times he pretended Berserk and Blossom were one in the same.

But he couldn't stop pretending.

After all, there were instances where, when he counted Berserk's heartbeats in the early hours of a gray-sky morning, he found himself smiling at her serene, beautiful face—it felt a lot like love. Still, the teenage boy knew better than to believe a lie created by phantom emotions; wishful thinking. He loved Berserk only when her skin was bare against his, only when she looked even more like her brilliant doppleganger.

Setting her magazine, Berserk studiously fixated her tulip-pink eyes upon Brick's own ruby ones. "You broke up with Princess for me? Is that what you're telling me?"

"My feelings are all over the place and I don't know exactly what to do with them," Brick elaborated, swallowing meekly as his gaze drifted down to Berserk's lovely, cherry mouth, "but maybe we could give this a try...if you like me, too."

Sinking her teeth into her lower lip, she slightly began to nibble at it, the nodded. "I like you, too."

"You're gorgeous," Brick murmured.

His eyelids fell closed the very second their lips touched, as Berserk pulled Brick by the collar of his shirt, up to rest his body atop hers on the mattress. For once, they didn't rush to get through the evening like a pair of wild animals. Brick took his time acquainting himself with each and every of Berserk's smooth skin, adoring and admiring her with his tongue and fingers. For hours, they merely explored one another, until they absolutely needed more. Even then, Brick refused to rush himself. As Berserk laid on her back, with her long, silken legs spread wide open, she revealed the intimate part of herself; her male counterpart ghosted the oozing tip of his proud member up and down her sex, from the summit to her clit, to the aching entrance—teasing them both.

"Please, Brick, I need to feel you inside of me," Beserk begged, her breathing erratic.

Of course, Brick eventually complied, his erection sunk its way inside of her throbbing center and repeatedly hit home. Berserk would wantonly mewl his name over and over again. But damn it, all he could hear was Blossom. While he gazed down upon Berserk's face, all he could _see_ was Blossom staring back up at him.

"Fuck," he snarled between slow, sharp, and heavy pumps. "I-"

"Brick!" Berserk shouted, her inner walls of slippery, pink flesh clamping shut around his cock, then began to spasm out of control.

God, she even climaxed like Blossom—also bringing him to shudder and writhe in a half-minute of bliss. "Oh..." Panting, Brick collapsed onto the mattress beside her. "You are an incredible, little minx."

Giggling breathlessly, Berserk replied. "Thanks. You weren't too bad yourself there. I hate to admit it, but you may be the best I've ever had."

Chuckling lightheartedly, the red Rowdyruff Boy spooned his naked body against Berserk's and trailed feathery kisses along the back of her neck, holding her tightly between his warm arms. "I think we both could get used to nights like this."

"I knew you were just trying to butter me up."

"Aren't you a smart cookie?"

With his eyelids heavier than an elephant's weight, the rebel-rouser closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep, where his dreams always led him back to Blossom. His dreams didn't fill his mind with any specific scenarios, just feelings. Euphoria. Enlightenment. Ecstasy. All of that good stuff. He didn't know it, but the more the Powerpuff Girl graced his wakeless fantasy, the further he snuggled into Berserk's body, yet it was Blossom he clung to so tightly in the middle of the night. It was Blossom's name that rolled off his taste buds, the sound natural and sincere.

"I love you... I've always loved you," he muttered peacefully, lost in a merriment of dreams. The familiar fragrance of lilac, lavender, vanilla, and fresh sunlight radiated from her soft, copper locks of hair as his face became buried between those thick curtains. "It's always been you, Blossom. I love you so much, Blossom. I always have. I always will."

And somehow, in the faculties of his half-awake brain, Brick caught the nervous sound of Blossom's breath hitching in the back of her throat, welling up like a knot. Only, he just remembered that Blossom's body was not the one he was curled up next to. He didn't make love to Blossom last night.

. . .

"Hey," Brick greeted the pink Powerpunk Girl sheepishly, pulling on the straps of his book bag.

Berserk immediately scoffed upon looking at the red Rowdyruff Boy—a conditioned reflex to the nauseating sight of his stupid face. "What do you want, Brick?" she asked icily, continuing to organize the bookshelves.

Standing adjacent to her, rather reluctantly at that, he answered, "I wanted to thank you for the other day."

Cynically, the teenage girl laughed, then shook her head to and from. "Thank me for what?"

"For helping me and Blossom get out of those mines..."

Boomer regaled Berserk's point of view a few days after the incident occurred. She had followed Blossom to the outskirts of Townsville, excited to see how the ex-couple would duke it out. From the safety of her vantage point behind the bushes, Berserk gruntledly watched her two counterparts beat the shit out of each other, just like in the good, old days. Throughout the day, the blue Rowdyruff had been sending her text messages—to see if she was alright. For awhile, the pink Powerpunk stopped returning his texts. Then, when the sun was already set, she sent him a frantic, all-capitalized letters message, saying that Brick and Blossom were stuck somewhere. Boomer did his part in rounding up Butch and the Utoniums, to free his brother and the missing Powerpuff Girl.

The dynamite was Berserk's idea... It didn't matter how much Brick used her,\ or how she resented Blossom, Berserk couldn't exactly let them stay trapped inside—something she confessed to Boomer.

"Tch. You probably would have never been stuck down there in those mines if I hadn't...if I had never told Blossom what happened between you and me." As Berserk apprehensively faced Brick, he noticed the remorseful, embarrassed lines etched in her expression.

But there was no need; she shouldn't have been the one who was sorry. "Blossom and me would have never been stuck down there in the first place if I had respected you...the way you felt for me. You were there for me and I treated you like dirt. I treated you like dirt, but you still bailed me out."

"Valid points, all of them," Berserk retorted nervously, her sunrise-pink orbs shifting to her feet, as her arms crossed over her chest. "I guess I'm a better person than you are."

"You are," he confirmed, sullenly nodding. "I'm sorry, Berserk, for everything I've done to hurt you. I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I want to know if you can-" The question fell from his lips like a plea for absolution. He earnestly missed his friend, but he had no idea where to start making amends for his abundant mistakes.

There was a long, gaping silence between them. Berserk stared into the ground as though the earth would crumble away beneath her feet. Then, finally, she looked at Brick. "I can forgive you for many things. I can forgive you for dangling the dream of being your girlfriend in front of my face. I can forgive you for treating me like a plastic sex doll. I can even forgive you for loving Blossom as much as you do..." Her collected composure was being shaken, as she forced a short laugh, even though a stream of tears stained her cheeks. "What I absolutely, positively, without a doubt cannot forgive is that the fact you aren't in love with me. Words cannot describe how unfair it is that I can't break your heart, but you can break mine so effortlessly. It sucks."

"Berserk..." Brick let out a flat sigh, feeling worse than ever. "I-"

"Don't comfort me," she begged, rubbing the salty wetness away from her eyes. "You're only going to make it worse for me."

Shrugging, with the horrible, heavy weight of defeat bearing down upon his shoulders, Brick shook his head. "I never thought you would fall in love with me."

"That makes the two of us." Berserk brushed passed him, grabbing a stack of books and walked back into the romance section. The first book that needed to be shelved was Jane Austen's _Sense and Sensibility_. "Can you please get out of my hair now? I have work that needs to be done, and I would like to do it in peace."

"Sure," Brick obliged, knowing there was nothing he could say or do that would immediately bandage the wreckage inside Berserk's heart—knowing what that experience was like firsthand. "I'll see you around."

"Yeah. I'll see ya."

 _Is that alright?_

 _Is that alright with you?_

 _No_


	30. And All Its Glory

**Disclaimer: The following characters are not in my possession.**

 **Author's Note: Here is something a bit different from my usual PPG fanfics. Something completely AU/AH. No powers. There isn't a specific time-setting, or there isn't one mentioned for now, but I was imagining that this one-shot is set in the mid 1950's. Also, there is lots of religion mentioned, mostly in a negative light, though... Not that I a personally hate Christianity, or any sort of religion. I'm Christian myself, actually. (Happy belated Easter, by the way! Or happy Easter to those who are Orthodox!)**

 **Author's Note # 2: "Strange and Beautiful" by Aqualung.**

* * *

 _I've been watching your world from afar_

 _I've been trying to be where you are_

 _And I've been secretly falling apart_

 _Unseen_

 _To me_

 _You're strange and you're beautiful_

 _You'd be so perfect with me_

 _But you just can't see_

 _You turn every head_

 _But you don't see me_

Curiosity was the worst of all the sins, for curiosity _is_ the most powerful element that could lead a naive mind to satisfy their temptations; the origins of temptation was always littered with curiosity.

After all, curiosity was the thing that led Adam and Eve to commit the Original Sin. The poor, little kittens needed to sate what they didn't know by sinking their teeth into the forbidden fruit, the sweet taste of its nectar collected on their taste buds and easily quenched their thirst. Then, the pathetic imbeciles were left to mourn through transgressions, battered by their terrible choices. Adam and Eve were ashamed of themselves and each other; satisfying their curiosity was not worth it. It was quite foolish of them to forsake paradise. But man, the forbidden fruit must have looked good enough to risk it, and the initial taste, the first sample of those prohibited juices, must have been heavenly.

Then again, Brick Jojo was far from being a religious person, much less God-fearing, he silently contemplated.

He and his brothers were relaxing behind the high school's gymnasium building during their lunch hour, smoking a couple of cigarettes in secret. As Brick, Saint Pokey Oak Catholic High School's most notorious delinquent, felt the pleasant smoke fill his lungs, he continued to ponder wonderfully forbidden item and how idiotic it seemed to prohibit something. Or someone. Claiming that a something—or a someone—was off limits made it—or she—all the more intriguing.

"Lookie who it is, guys," Boomer exclaimed, swaggering a few feet away to step in the path of the high school's number one sweetheart, Blossom Utonium, one of the adopted daughters of the Townsville prized scientist.

"It's Miss Priss herself," Butch shouted, jumping alongside his younger, blond brother.

"Butch, Boomer, could you two please move?" Blossom pleaded with a weary, curt smile, as she pressed a multitude of textbooks closer to her chest, over the pastel-white shirt. "I need to-"

"We don't really care," Boomer stated, interrupting her. He began to tug at the thick knot of his blue necktie—loosening it. "Wanna have some fun with us?"

"Not particularly, no," the seventeen year-old girl answered, a deadpanned expression written across her face.

"Oh, come on, chicklet. We have a spotless record of making ladies like you feel good," Butch added suggestively, while he and Boomer circled around the poor girl like two, hungry sharks taunting their prey.

"Ladies...like me?" she questioned, a layer of incredulousness to her tone.

"Yeah, the kind of ladies who need to loosen up," Butch replied, carefully extracting the girl's precious books from her arms, "or rather, the _tight_ ladies who need to be loosened."

"If you catch our drift." Boomer winked, curving his index finger over the opening of her blouse and tugged it toward him. His electric blue eyes peered down, sneaking a peak at her pink bra.

"Hey!?" Blossom rightfully protested. She drew back her hand, getting ready to slap the weird pervert across the face when, suddenly, she was stopped mid-motion. "Let go of me, Brick!"

Brick directed a cocky grin at the slightly younger female student, who was one grade lower than him, noticing how the muscles of her hand immediately relaxed as he held it in place. His abrupt presence next to Blossom was not menacing, but protective. It was peculiar, since they had never actually spoken to each other before; they simply knew one anothers name by their respective reputations—the ultimate bad boy and the pristine, good girl. He had only seen her around school until now, never paying any actual attention to her existence—and he was certain the lack of acknowledgment was mutual. But right now, Blossom Utonium was a lamb who had made the mistake of wandering into the lions' den. The thought crossed Brick's mind only for a moment, but he could see why his younger brothers were very, conspicuously attracted to this little diddy. She was gorgeous, in spite of the way the frumpy uniform shielded some of her best assets. Still, Brick found himself distracted—captivated by Blossom's round, impressive irises, colored with the brightest magenta.

"Allow me," he nodded at her, lowering her hand while fisting his own. Brick projected a strong fist forward, punching Boomer right in the center of his face; he then drew his arm backward, elbowing Butch in the same spot.

"Ow!" the two groaned in complaint, gripping their bloody noses.

"You chuckleheads should be ashamed of yourselves!" Brick barked, popping his black, leather jacket's collar and brushed Blossom out of the way. "We're rebels, not bullies!"

"Ah-ah. Sorry, Brick..." Boomer apologized, his voice nasal.

Folding his arms over his chest, the senior-class student shook his head. "It's not me you should be apologizing to." And then he indicated to the girl standing behind him. "It's Blossom." _Blossom_. Simply saying her name made Brick feel something bizarre—something different. Her name was kind of pretty...

"Sorry, Blossom..." Butch and Boomer muttered underneath their breaths before wandering off, probably to the restrooms to fix their noses.

"I'm sorry about them. Really, they aren't so bad once you get to know them," the school's golden delinquent said as he turned around. He was suddenly caught off-guard by the girl's perplexing expression. Her ginger eyebrows were knitted together in a dark glower, his ice cream-pink eyes glued to his face. "Hey... What's that look for?"

"Huh? What? Oh! My apologies!" Blinking, Blossom's facial features contorted into a sheepish, yet friendly smile. "I'm often told that I get a frightening look upon my face when I'm contemplating too deeply."

"What were you thinking about?"

"Those books... Your brothers rushed off with them."

"Oh. I can get them back for you if you want."

Although, his lunch break was almost over. He doubted he could find his brothers, obtain Blossom's textbooks, and deliver them back to her in the span of five minutes. It didn't help that he would probably have to make a mad dash to the school's A building, then all the way back to the gym. That was a lot of work he didn't want to do. But, as Blossom stood there before him with a grateful smile, he could attempt to perform the impossible.

"That's very sweet of you, but I'm leaving school in a few minutes for a dentist appointment," she stated, twirling a golden-chestnut tendril around her index finger, "but I'll be at Saint Pokey Oaks Church at four. Will you please meet me there?"

In truth, Brick was tempted to decline her request. He couldn't stand the hypocrisy and prejudice that loomed in the air whenever he was forced to attend Sunday mass. However, Brick accepted. "Sure thing. See you later."

. . .

Nervously, Brick's burgundy irises stared at the stone gargoyle perched atop the steeple, its cold, empty eyes glowering menacingly in return. He couldn't describe himself as afraid—there were very few things in life he feared—but he anxious, or perhaps repelled at the more sight of the church's protector. Why was he doing this again? Who for? Brick detested churches, he had for most of his life, but here here he was about to enter into the sanctuary got all the hypocrites and liars. As his hand wrapped around the handle of the tall doors, the static build-up shocked his fingertips and made him pull away in surprise.

What the hell? Maybe God didn't like Brick either. Whatever.

Just as Brick was about to set the school textbooks down and vamoose, both doors suddenly burst wide open.

"Hello, young man," a stout woman greeted him chipperly, dressed from head-to-toe in a nun's outfit, "may I assist you?"

"Um..." He was at a loss for a second. "Is Blossom here?"

"Yes, of course," the nun answered, gesturing Brick inside of the church.

"Over there," she said, pointing to the girl in the front-center of the rows and rows of pews, kneeling down humbly. "Good day, young man." And with that, the nun strode off.

Slowly, the rebellious teenage boy walked up the path, us the aisle. As he drew closer, he could hear Blossom saying something—praying, actually.

"I pray the forgiveness and the good fortune of my loved ones and enemies, the rich and the poor, the wicked and the innocent. God," Blossom spoke aloud, not at all embarrassed for someone to listen in. "I pray to you to save the hungry and to balance the bad with good. I modestly pray for myself as well. I always trust you to do what is best, Lord." The last part was whispered. "Amen." From behind her, Brick viewed one of her arms moving about to perform the sign of the cross, right before standing up and exiting the pew. Turning around, a light gasp caught in her throat as she finally realized that she wasn't alone. "Oh, my!"

"Hey, sorry. I didn't want to interrupt you."

"It's alright. No harm done. You just startled me, that's all."

"Anyway, I brought your books," Brick told her, handling them to her.

"Thank you so much," she exclaimed, her expression lit up like the Fourth of July. "And thank you for coming inside! Honestly, I anticipated that you might drop them off at the doorstep." She set the heavy objects down on a nearby pew.

"You're welcome," Brick retorted, giving the Utonium girl his best, most dashing smile. "I can be chivalrous when given the chance."

"I'm glad to see you again," Blossom said shyly, absentmindedly fiddling with the heart-shaped locket dangling over the pink and white uniform tie over her chest. "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

Shrugging nonchalantly, Brick answered, "Go ahead."

"I don't mean to sound presumptuous, but the word around school is that-" Afraid of being too far impolite and accusatory, Blossom cut herself off.

"I'm a juvenile delinquent, who enjoys pulling fire alarms, defacing school property, and generally likes to cause mischief. Does that about sum it up?" Brick offered cheekily, his teasing playful and light. "You don't have to worry about offending me, kid. My reputation wouldn't be notorious if my skin was so thin."

"I guess you have a point," Blossom nodded. She released a relieved sigh, thankful he wasn't nearly as short-tempered he was rumored to be. "Well, anyway, I was wondering... Why did you come to my aid? Being helpful isn't exactly what you're known for."

True. Brick was more of a creep, a dirtbag, not a knight in shining armor. "I don't know."

"It doesn't really matter. You came to my rescue..." Blossom's cheeks began to redden to a scarlet shade, "even though I imagine attending church makes you uneasy."

That was definitely one way to put it. "You're not wrong there." Still, a thought occurred to him—Blossom wasn't a stuck-up snob like most of the Bible-thumping, rosary-wearing, bathroom floor junkies at school. She was sincere. He wasn't the only one out of place here. "Church begets hypocrites. It's not my scene."

"We're all sinners, Brick, and there are some more guilty than others," Blossom stated matter-of-factually, yet gently. "Yes, it's true. There are some of us that use God as a mask to feign goodness."

"But you don't," he said, mirroring her tone.

"How could you possibly know that?"

"I just have a feeling." He was typically a brilliant judge of character; he could sense that Blossom wasn't entirely pure, or untouched by black sin, nor would she pretend otherwise. "Can I ask you a question?"

"That is fair," Blossom replied, her breathing sharp.

Brick stepped closer to her, glancing up and down her body. "What is your worst sin?"

Blossom's eyes darkened, from light pink to sunset-pink, matching the color of her cheeks. "Curiosity... _Lust_."

"Me, too."


	31. Oh, Happily Ever After

**Disclaimer: None of these beloved characters belong to me, but if they did, PPG might need a higher rating.**

 **Author's Note: Yet another AH, but this story line will be continued in a following chapter. I decided to split this one in two parts, because it was getting too lengthy, and I'm almost done making these posts, so I'll be disappearing again very soon.**

 **Author's Note # 2: "Holly I'm the One" by Son of Dork.**

* * *

 _Holly, I'm the one_

 _You should be dating_

 _Seeing you with him is so frustrating_

 _I taught him everything I knew_

 _He used to be my best friend_

 _Now I hate him_

 _And it sucks that he won_

 _'Cuz he's a dick and you're amazing_

At first, Brick Jojo didn't think much of Blossom Utonium, not that he thought of her at all, really. They shared a few college courses together—psychology, criminology, and philosophy, though they never shared words with one another, and what reason would they have to? Blossom and Brick traveled in different circles. She, the future lawyer, spent her time with the more focused students, while he, the future burger-flipper, spent his time with the slackers.

They had nothing in common, save a mutual friend by the name of Richard Engarde, who was popular with the majority of the students attending Townsville University. He was intelligent, but not arrogant; he was funny, but knew when to be serious; he was charismatic, but not a show-off; he was handsome to boot, but he appeared entirely unaware of the fact. The female student body had dubbed Richard Engarde as 'Prince Charming,' since he was the embodiment of every girl's fantasy man. So, it was no wonder when Blossom started dating Richard, who also happened to be Brick's closest friend and roommate.

It was all thanks to Richard that Brick just had to meet Blossom. It was all Richard's fault, that bastard.

On one, fateful morning, Brick was in the kitchen, a bit groggy from a lack of sleep, making breakfast for Richard and himself, just because it was his turn to cook. He heard his best friend's door creak open.

"Mornin', Sleeping Beauty!" Brick shouted from the kitchen. "You and your score were awfully loud last night, keeping me up! Selfish!" He turned off the stove and made his way toward the living room, having heard Richard's footsteps hustle for the front door. "Hey, where are you-"

To Brick's dismay, Richard was not the one standing at the door, ready to make a hasty retreat out of the apartment.

"Hi..." Blossom murmured, both of her cheeks burning with the color of a firetruck.

For a moment, Brick felt a rush of confusion sweep over him, but the feeling quickly dissipated. "I figured you were too uppity to ever do the walk of shame."

"Uppity?" Blossom echoed nervously, arching an eyebrow.

"Be nice, Brick," Richard tutted, finally exiting his bedroom. "You should get to know people before you judge them."

"I was just kidding," Brick retorted with a nonchalant shrug. Truthfully, he felt every bit as uncomfortable as Blossom probably did. He never meant to embarrass the poor girl. "Um... Look, your name is Blossom, right?"

"It is," she nodded gently. "And you're Brick."

"Good. Now that we're all acquainted..." Richard strode over to Blossom, placing his hands upon her shoulders. "Why are you leaving, sweetheart?"

"I didn't want your roommate to catch us," Blossom replied, sparing a shameful glance in Brick's direction. "I don't want you getting the wrong idea about me."

Mockingly, Brick raised his hands in defense. "Hey, whether or not you're a one night stand kind of chick is really none of my business."

"Are you into one night stands? Is that what last night was?" Richard questioned the petite redhead, his hands running up and down her shoulders.

"No! Of course not!" Blossom's pink irises had widened, glued to Richard's gentle, handsome face. "It's just that... I..." She trailed off, her complexion even redder than before, as she stood on her tippy-toes to whisper something in his ear.

Chuckling lightheartedly, Richard shook his head. "It's okay, Blossom. Why don't you stay for breakfast, and then I'll drive you home?"

"I'd rather not impose," Blossom said, wanting to decline gently.

"Nonsense," Brick, the best wingman in existence, insisted. Although, Blossom was correct in believing that she would be imposing. He'd fixed enough pancakes for only two people, and he was starving. "I already ate anyway, so I'll leave you two alone."

"Are you sure?" Blossom asked, befuddled by his generosity.

"Yeah, sure." Richard was going to owe him big time for this.

Escaping to his bedroom for the remainder of the morning, Brick attempted to ignore his growling stomach by performing a multitude of exercises, yet none of the activity worked. All he could think about were those delicious chocolate chip flapjacks that he had slaved over, smothered beneath a mountain of whipped topping, being eaten by someone else. And what for? Why had Brick foolishly given his food to a woman he had never spoken to before? All in the name so Richard could get some more pussy, that's why.

"I hope your little girlfriend enjoyed my cooking," Brick griped to his best friend later that afternoon, after Richard had dropped Blossom off at home.

"Blossom didn't eat any. She left them for you," Richard replied, idly flipping through television channels.

Not needing any further explanation, Brick rushed into the kitchen and devoured every last morsel of chocolatey, cakey paradise, while simultaneously noting that there was another, fresher batch with a note attached to the plate. _I would appreciate your discretion, so here is a bribe just for you – Blossom._

. . .

"What gave you the impression that I was uppity?" Blossom inquired curiously, sitting at the dining room table with Brick.

"I don't know..." Brick retorted sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "I assumed, y'know, because your grades are so high."

Rolling her eyes, Blossom shook her head to and from. "We have the same, exact average, you jerk."

But that was not always the case. "I got a tutor, remember?"

"You're welcome, by the way."

Things had changed between the two classmates in the last three months, ever since Richard and Blossom began dating. They hung out the apartment on a regular basis, four nights out the week. As the couple grew closer—inching toward those big, three words with each passing day—it was inevitable that she and Brick would also become close.

Not too long ago, the infamous slacker was in danger of failing too many classes, which would have resulted in expulsion, but then Richard suggested that Brick should simply enlist Blossom's assistance, since she was Townsville U's top student. Both Blossom and Brick were apprehensive in the beginning, but Richard somehow managed to bridge the gap between them. A few nights into their routine study session, the star pupil and the failing rebel began to talk about stuff beyond school topics. They discussed politics, economics, movies, music; and hence discovered they shared a great deal in common.

All the while, Brick's grades were completely turning around.

"You would make a great teacher," Brick said, munching on a handful of potato chips. "Have you ever thought about becoming one?"

"Once," she replied, combing her fingers through her long locks of golden-copper hair, her demeanor now shy. "I've always been more of a science and law prodigy, so I decided that becoming a lawyer made more sense."

"Too bad that law is boring," he gibed playfully, watching her expression with observant, crimson eyes. "Is becoming a lawyer something you really want to do?"

"There's good money to be made." Blossom shrugged, quickly glancing at her restless digits. "Besides, I'm probably not good with adolescents."

"What makes you say that?"

"Just a hunch... My younger sister, Bubbles, has a baby boy. I think he can sense how I always get nervous around him. He never stops crying."

Brick couldn't help but emit a tiny chortle, as he reached across the circular, wooden table to rest a reassuring hand over hers. "You've made me realize that I can do anything if I work hard enough, so I know you're capable of doing everything."

Bourbon-red and cotton candy-pink eyes shifted their gazes down to see that their hands were intertwined. Neither pulled away; instead, Brick and Blossom allowed their fingers to remain entangled a little while longer, as though their brains had yet to register what was happening. It was a harmless, innocent gesture of friendship, a mere touch of the hand. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Finally, Blossom was the first to retract her gentle touch. "So, what about you, Brick?"

"Uh... What about me?" The twenty year-old's head was swimming around clumsily, the tips of his fingers slightly tinging from the loss of his tutor's touch, and yet the feeling of her fingertips lingering burned his skin.

"What do you want to do when you grow up?" Blossom queried, giving him a small, teasing grin.

"I guess that I would like to be a mechanic." he retorted slowly, considering what career he wanted for himself. "I don't really know. I guess I kind of like working with my hands."

Tilting her head to the side, a mischievous smirk appeared on either corner of her scarlet mouth. "I imagine that's what keeps Lindsay coming back."

Mirroring Blossom's expression, he chortled lightheartedly at her. "I think you mean Lizzie. Lindsay was last month."

"You dog!"

"That's me!"

"Do you think you'll ever find a girl that's able to tie you down?"

"Sure. Being tied down doesn't sound too bad. I enjoy a girl with a kinky side."

As the front door swung open, Blossom and Brick's banter was interrupted, turning their attention to the new presence. Richard had just arrived home with a bright, goofy smile plastered on his face.

"Richie!" Blossom exclaimed enthusiastically, rushing into her lover's arms for a welcome home hug.

"Blossom!" Richard gracefully plucked his girlfriend into his embrace and passionately kissed her, until they were both left breathless.

Sauntering into the living room, Brick contemplatively crossed his arms over his chest. He watched, in an awkward silence, Prince Charming practically slobber all over his darling princess's face, not that she seemed to mind at all.

It was funny. Richard and Blossom performed acts of PDA all the time, and Brick had definitely seen them make out hundreds of times, but this time... He felt sort of nauseated by the sight. It was as if there was a boulder lodged deep into the center of his stomach. But it wasn't just his stomach that hurt; his chest hurt as well.

What the hell was wrong with him?

"I don't mean to break up the nice lip-lock you two have going on there, but I assume you got the job?" Brick asked, grateful to the heavens above when they finally stopped kissing.

"Yeah, you got it, buddy. The two of you are now looking at an actual chef," Richard announced proudly, glancing between his best friend and his girlfriend.

"Fancy," Brick commented sardonically. His crimson-eyed gaze was stuck on Blossom, examining her beaming expression aimed at none other than Richard, in a fit of...jealousy? Brick was _jealous._

"Oh, honey, that is fantastic news! I knew you would get the job! I'm so proud of you!" Blossom hugged Richard again.

"How about you and I celebrate?" Richard suggested flirtatiously, waggling his eyebrows.

Exiting the room, Brick instinctively decided that he did not need to, nor want to, listen to anymore of their conversation.

 _And I know that I'm dumb_

 _But, Holly,_

 _I'm the one_


	32. Wouldn't You Know

**Disclaimer: The following characters of this story do not belong to me.**

 **Author's Note: Well, here it is. The final chapter of the Br/Bl break-up series. Will Blossom and Brick be able to make amends? Read and find out!**

 **Author's Note # 2: "Larger than Life" by the Backstreet Boys (there's some oldies for you right there). And the theme song for this chapter is "Geronimo" by Sheppard. I heard the latter song on Girl Meets World, and I absolutely fell in love with it.**

 _When I lost it_

 _Yeah, you held my hand_

 _But I tossed it_

 _Didn't understand you were waiting_

 _As I dove into the waterfall_

Several weeks had passed since the leader of the heroic Powerpuff Girls trio had last spoken to the commander of the sometimes-noble, sometimes-dastardly Rowdyruff Boys. His question, "Where do we go from here," constantly plagued her mind, the sounds of his desperation sharply echoing through her busy brain like a catchy Pop tune.

Now that they managed to divulge a few secrets and lay most of their issues on the table—showing their cards as it were—where _could_ they go from that point? Where did she want to go? That was the most important question—something that brought up just about a million other ones. Did she want to get back together with Brick? Could she, again, risk her heart and self-respect for a relationship that might wind up at a dead end? Was there any sort of future for them? Or was she just kidding herself? What if she didn't even want their relationship back? Would Brick be okay if she decided they were better off as friends?

Truth be told, Blossom had no idea what she wanted, or what she wanted to do. A part of her surprisingly missed Brick and yearned to give him a second chance, a second chance to prove himself, but there was a different part of her that wanted to beat his face in. She couldn't take any of this with a grain of salt, it seemed, so she had to consider every possibility. Then again, she couldn't keep Brick waiting on her forever either like some tease, especially since he had yet to show any interest in the opposite sex in a number of weeks.

That's because he's gone through them all, Blossom mused to herself silently as she blankly stared at her cellphone. No, no. The pink Powerpuff decided not to permit her bitterness and resentment to trump her better judgment. She was still in love Brick in spite of his selfish, stupid mistakes, so she needed to be swift and decisive. No matter what Blossom chose, eventually they would both need to forget the past and move on.

But, with all of that in mind, Blossom remained clueless of what to do.

"Okay, you can do this," Blossom said in attempt to to give herself a pep talk. In this particular instance, perhaps mulling over what to do was not the answer. Maybe she needed to be more impetuous. Go with the flow. Listen to her heart.

 _Do you want to go for a drive this weekend?_ Blossom texted her ex-boyfriend, her digits shaking frantically as she typed the words.

Brick texted her back almost instantly. _Yes. Do you mind if I pick the destination?_

Oh. Blossom had not been expecting such a quick response. _As long as I can pick the music we listen to._

 _Sounds fair._

 _Like you really had a choice._

 _Good point._

 _So, is Saturday morning okay with you?_

 _Saturday morning is great for me. Thank you for giving me a chance, Blossom_.

Although Blossom was not quite sure if she was, in fact, giving him a chance so much as she was giving her feelings for him a test drive, she felt the familiar stir of butterflies fluttering around in in her stomach at the thought of willingly spending a day with Brick Jojo... God. Butterflies. How long had it been since she last felt butterflies? It had been quite awhile, too long maybe.

. . .

"So what made you decide that you want to go for a drive?" Brick inquired Blossom, casting a sideways glance at her as all the hustle and bustle of Townsville started to disappear from the rearview mirror.

Blossom shrugged, feigning nonchalance. They really hadn't spoken to each other in the last thirty minutes, except for the awkward small chat when he arrived to pick her up. "It seemed like a nice idea—much better than getting ourselves trapped in some dusty, old mine shaft," she answered.

"I have to agree with you there," the red Rowdyruff Boy nodded, emitting a lighthearted chuckle.

"My head is a bit of mess. I've had a great deal of things to think about, but I don't want to think anymore. A drive seems like a good idea to clear my head," Blossom elucidated to him, a sense of warmth and serenity claiming her mind as the Camry passed tree after tree—heading deeper into the countryside.

"Makes sense to me," Brick assessed simplistically, following a straight path down the road. "If you're looking for peace and quiet, a nice, long drive is pretty satisfying."

As Brick slightly turned his head to give Blossom a charming, ear-to-ear grin, the latter perked an eyebrow at the former. "I don't recall saying anything about quiet."

"Huh?" A baffled expression washed over the contours of Brick's face, as his worried, plum-red irises curiously followed the direction of his ex-girlfriend's hand.

"If I recall correctly, which I do, you love this song!" the Powerpuff Girl commander exclaimed, over-taken by a giggle fit. She rotated the radio's sound dial, pumping the volume so loud that the entire car vibrated.

At first, Brick groaned when he finally realized which song was playing, as if he dreaded and regretted its very existence, but as soon as the lyrics started blaring from the car's speakers, he was there singing right long.

" _I may run and hide when you're screamin' my name, alright. But let me tell you now there are prices to fame, alright. All of our time spent in flashes of light._ "

"Come on, you have to sing, too!" Brick ordered. He gently grasped Blossom by the wrist and began waving around her limp arm. It didn't take her long to join in with Brick, the two performing a duet of sorts.

" _All you people, can't you see? Can't you see how your love's affecting our reality? Every time we're down, you can make it right. And that makes you larger than life._ "

It occurred to Blossom, in the back of her mind, how natural it felt goofing around with her ex-boyfriend like this, as if all their issues and fights could be actually left in the past. As if everything else could simply be ignored and forgotten; 'forgive and forget,' that's how the saying went, right? Maybe just maybe, it could be that easy.

" _Lookin' at the crowd, I can see your body sway, c'mon. Wishin' I could thank you in a different way, c'mon. 'Cause all of your time spent keeps us alive._ "

Brick and Blossom began dancing, or as much as they could while being trapped together in a moving vehicle. They were banging their heads along with the beat, playfully wiggling their arms, and following (some) of the choreography with their legs—all the while, huge and dopey grins were plastered to their faces.

When the song finally drew to a close, the two managed to collect themselves and steady their childish laughter, though the jovial noises bubbled up every few seconds or so.

"Wow, Brick, I didn't know you had it in you," the copper-hair teenage girl teased, folding her arms over her chest as she gave him a smug grin.

"Are you kidding me? That song is my freakin' jam, boo!" he shouted in jest, tossing his counterpart a confident, yet carefree smirk. He was a little bit out of breath from all the energy he poured into that song and dance number.

"So, are you ever actually going to tell me where we're going, or am I to assume that you intend to kidnap me?" Blossom queried curiously, trying not to think about the millions of things she was supposed to be thinking about.

"Damn, you caught me," Brick replied, playing along with the second scenario. "My plan is to drive around for hours, that way you don't suspect a thing, when I'm really holding you for ransom."

It was blatant that Brick was merely joking around with Blossom, but she could not deny the somewhat intriguing point that he brought into the light. Absentmindedly, the young super-heroine wrinkled her nose in thought—contemplating a fantasy where she was held hostage. What would Brick be willing to sacrifice in exchange for her safety? What would he give away in order to ensure her freedom? It was an illogical train of thought—that she knew—but she continued to wonder in silence, while they drove deeper and deeper into the country, aimlessly traveling through the woodland area.

"What is it? Why did you go quiet all of a sudden?" Brick inquired, waving a hand in front of Blossom's face to snap her out of her mute state. "Hellooo! Earth to Blossom!"

Blinking spastically, the pink Powerpuff was pulled form her musings. "S-Sorry, Brick. I guess I spaced out for awhile there."

"Well, what were you thinking so hard about?"

"It's stupid, really."

"Come on. You can trust me?"

Could she actually, though? "Trust me. You don't want to hear it."

"I do."

"You don't."

"I do."

"You don't."

"I do, Blossom," Brick insisted solemnly, his red-wine gaze warm as he glanced at her. "I promise that I won't laugh or make fun of you."

"Okay." Blossom's jaw slightly stuck out to the side, an elongated exhale blowing her auburn bangs about her forehead. "I was sort of wondering—what am I worth to you, Brick?" She was instantly wracked with embarrassment when Brick didn't answer her query straight away. Her case of shame quadrupled in size upon glancing at her ex-boyfriend's expression. His cheeks were the color of wild roses, a bashful grin adorned upon the right-hand corner of his mouth. He seemed hesitant. "See?" Blossom griped, nervously combing her fingers through her long, chestnut tendrils. "I told you it was stupid. I never should have said anything."

"No!" the notorious bad boy exclaimed in a panic. "I mean," he continued, his tone softened, "I'm glad you did. It's a good question. I'm just thinking about how should go about answering it."

"Oh," Blossom retorted, a weary smile written on her lips. "Take your time. There's no rush here..."

"With you, there's always a rush," Brick gibed, through his lovely passenger a suggestive smirk. "You're worth a lot to me, pretty flower. I don't know where to start." He let out a long sigh, the sound guilty. "You've given me so much already—your time, your patience, your love... I don't know that I can ever make up for what I've wasted."

"Brick, you don't have to-"

"Let me finished," the proud Rowdyruff Boy interjected. "I think I'm finally ready to give up on my fears and my idiotic pride. Myself. I stood in the way of my own happiness, because I was afraid everything good would collapse around me. I never realized I was the one causing my own destruction."

. . .

Blossom wasn't quite certain how she felt about being blindfolded throughout the rest of their journey to their mysterious destination, but her fears were instantaneously laid to rest when Brick said that he would gladly carry her, that way she wouldn't stumble into anything. Gratefully, she agreed, only to then realize that he planned on flying the rest of the way there—not that she truthfully minded. There was something sort of romantic about zipping through the azure sky, with the breeze waving through her hair, while Brick tenaciously cradled her close in his strong, warm embrace. It was nice."

"Are we finally there?" Blossom questioned, listening to the crisp sounds of her male counterpart's tennis shoes shuffle around as he gently set her down.

"Yep, but don't take off your blindfold just yet. Gimme a minute," Brick warned her, moving at the speed of light to set up the remaining scenery.

Giggling, the eighteen year-old girl nodded obligingly. "Okay."

"Alright. Here we go," she heard Brick mutter to himself as something—a towel perchance—whipped in the wind. "And that goes there... Done! Phew! You can take it off now!"

Reaching behind her head to untangle the knot from her makeshift blindfold (her red ribbon), and then removed it, a sharp breath hitched in the back of her throat. Before her was a wide, sapphire lake—the golden sunlight making the water's surface sparkle like crystals—as a nearby waterfall fed into it. Tall trees stood about as though guarding this piece of paradise. It was a gorgeous sight to behold, one mother natures finest creations.

All the while, Brick picked a spot on the grass and laid out a cozy picnic, complete with turkey sandwiches, M&M brownies, and sparkling white grape juice.

The youthful girl sat down on the red-and-black checkered blanket, her heart in a tizzy. "This is a recreation of our sixth date, right?"

"Actually, it was our fifth date," the ginger-haired boy clarified as he poured Blossom a glass of grape juice.

Carefully, she curled her graceful digits around the stem of the wine glass and took a small sip of the effervescent liquid. "Oh... I remember that we accidentally found this place when we were on a hike."

"Mm-hmm," Brick nodded, eating a sandwich. "We were both surprised by how clean the water is."

"Then, we actually drank from the lake."

"It was a risky bet, but neither of us developed a horrible skin-eating disease."

"Yeah! It was a good day!"

Brick shrugged kind of sheepishly, trying to get some of the words out. "Well... Every day with you was a good day, Blossom..."

A fragment of her being wanted to echo his statement, except she remembered that a number of their days after their nature discovery became downright shitty. "Thanks."

"I know... Not long after, I started putting distance between us," the red Rowdyruff continued apprehensively with a wry smile. "I think that's because it first occurred to me that our relationship wasn't just for fun anymore. When we found this place, I realized how much you scared me... Not you, specifically, but the idea of keeping this well-oiled machine going. I can't really remember the exact moment I fell in love with you, but I can remember realizing it for the first time..."

Every fiber of Blossom's being wanted to reject Brick's explanation, but the utter sincerity threaded through his string of statements weakened her strength. She released a burdened breath and shrugged. "Here we are... I don't know what's supposed to change beyond this point or how."

Ugh. And then, the switch in Blossom's ever-shouting brain flickered on. Doubts and fears and regrets welled up in the back of her mind, creeping all the way to the forefront like black widows crawling underneath a bed in the middle of a lightless room. She wasn't ready to think things through all the way quite yet—not when there was already a humongous conflict raging at the center of her chest; the decision to finally let Brick go once and for all, or to let him back in spite of the red flares and red flags, fought against each other. Too opposite.

Blossom was having none of that.

"You wanna go swimming?" she asked Brick impulsively.

"Right now?" he inquired, unaware of the internal struggle roaring inside.

"Sure! It'll be fun!" Blossom declared. She stood up and stripped off various items of clothing until she was left wearing a pair of black-laced boyshorts and a tickle-me-pink bra. _Modesty be damned_ , she mused as she ran to mount the waterfall.

Stunned and perplexed, Brick cocked his head to the side. "What's gotten into you?"

"What's wrong? You're not a chicken, are you, Brick?" the adrenaline-drunk teenager challengingly yelled back.

Of course, Brick didn't waste any time at all trailing after her, climbing up the rocky cliff. "Alright, alright."

Glancing at him up and down, she gestured to his attire in amuse. "Are you actually going to risk chafing?"

Wearing a slight frown, Brick's plum-brandy irises followed Blossom's bobbing index finger, then looked down at his clothes. She was right. If he planned on leaping into the lake with her, he had to remove his red t-shirt and denim bluejeans, and so he did.

"Happy now?"

"Don't be such a sourpuss," Blossom replied, tauntingly poking her finger into his bare chest. "Nice boxers, by the way."

His negative expression was quickly washed away, replaced with his signature smirk—the one that used to make delicious shivers crawl up her spine. "You always loved the color pink, right?"

He was flirting with her, and she liked it, but she wasn't all too sure if she wanted to be receptive to his behavior or not.

Rolling her strawberry ice cream-pink eyes at him, Blossom contorted her facial features into a sympathetic expression, said to him, "It was nice knowing you, Brick," and happily shoved him off a cliff.

Brick's body fell like a useless sack of potatoes into the sapphire liquid, his instincts delayed. The poor, bemused teenager hit the water with a mighty splash, creating tall waves that rolled over each other, before his body sunk beneath the glimmering surface. It took less than half a minute for his red-haired head to poke above the calming water.

"If you were trying to kill me, it didn't work!"

"How's the water, sweetie?" Crap! She hadn't meant to call him 'sweetie'; it just slipped out like a bad habit.

"Feels great!" the young man shouted back, chortling as he swam about. "Care to join me, _pumpkin_?"

Backing away from the jagged precipice on which she stood, Blossom then propelled herself forward, her body curving stylistically over the waterfall, and dove straight into the lake. She was enveloped in the cool, refreshing liquid for just a moment—probably a moment longer than she needed to reach the surface, but the clear depths were temptingly serene. She listened to her heart, literally, as its steady beating threatened to lull her to sleep, overwhelming her with relaxation.

As the Powerpuff Girl's eyelids started to weigh down, she felt a strong creature slither and shimmer up between her legs. Her eyes snapped open in a frenzy, worried that a mysterious lake monster caught her; but Blossom was immediately set at ease, and felt the corners of her mouth curl into a little smile, as Brick pressed his muscular torso against her chest. His hands curved under the backs of her lower legs, dangerously close to her thighs, and urged her legs to encircle his hips. A smidgen absentmindedly, Blossom replied to his silent request. Slowly, but surely, Brick swam them back up to the surface, their respective red and pink eyes fixated on one anothers face all the while.

"Why did you do that?" Blossom asked, after they both swallowed huge gulps of air.

"You were taking a while to come back up, so I wanted to check on," Brick elucidated, inwardly pleased that she had yet to disengage from him.

"I was distracted," Blossom replied, enraptured with every inch of his handsome face, from the way his smoldering, crimson gaze examined hers in return, to his darkened, tangerine hair clinging to his flushed cheeks. "I wanted to listen to what my heart was saying."

"Did you?"

"Yes?"

"And what did your heart tell you?"

Instead of verbalizing her answer with inadequate words, Blossom preferred to with a different, more physical method. Linking their lips together with gusto, Blossom decided to initiate something that she should not have, but subsequently also chose not to care. Brick's mouth felt like paradise, freely molding against her own, as their tongues skillfully twined over each others. Unaware, Blossom's fingers raked over his autumn-red, wet hair, to mash their faces closer together, while his hands slid down to her lower back.

Oh, fuck. It was all she could do to bite back a mewl if pleasure when Brick's tongue flickered against the roof of her mouth in just the way she liked; but her attempt to restrain her little noise was futile. Brick was too good at the kissing game, a game he was designed and destined to win.

A game. A winner. A player.

As Blossom's heartbeat went berserk, she realized that she could no longer keep that flood of mixed emotions at bay.

 _Berserk_.

Had Brick kissed her in this lustful, unabashed way? Had their bodies clung to one anothers like this? How similar was Blossom to Berserk? How many times did Brick merely imagine her when he was really with Berserk? What if he now preferred her Powerpunk doppleganger?

"I... I can't do this now..." Blossom said, unlatching her legs from around her ex-boyfriend's hips. "I'm sorry."

Agitated with herself, she lifted her drenched body from the water and flew back to the grass, to dry off on the picnic blanket. Memories—visions—that weren't even her own flashed like lightning bolts through her mind—suspicions; they stung sharply, causing Blossom to wince, as she pictured Brick together with Berserk, deliberately repeating similar techniques to elicit similar reactions from her. Blossom's stomach churned at the thought.

Getting back together with Brick might have been simpler were it not for Berserk's inadvertent intrusion—were it not for Brick's crude invitation into _their_ private, intimate moments as a couple. Then again, calling it quits for good might have been a cinch if she didn't still love the ridiculous imbecile. She believed Brick when he said that he wanted to change; she believed that he could change; she just didn't know if she could accept the consequences if he once again proved that any faith she had in him was a lost cause—a wager she would inevitably lose.

But, damn it all, Blossom loved Brick.

"Do you regret coming here today?" a tender voice inquired from next to Blossom.

In reply, the clueless girl shook her head, and pulled her knees up to her chest. "No."

"But you don't want to be a couple again, do you?"

"No... Yes... I don't know." Was it possible to find some sort of middle ground in a situation like this? "What do you think we should do?"

Chuckling humorlessly, Brick sheepishly scratched the back of his head. "Blossom... This can't be about me anymore. I realize that now. We've wasted so much time focusing on me. I can't ask you to give me that kind of attention. What do _you_ want to do? I'll love you no matter what you decide." He meant it, too.

If only Brick spoke of his true feelings before, Blossom wouldn't be caught in the eye of the storm.

"Slow," the indecisive, usually capable Powerpuff murmured, resting her head on the top of his shoulder. "Maybe we fell in love too fast, or _I_ jumped into my feelings too quickly." After all, the red Rowdyruff Boy were created to destroy Blossom. In a sense, their love was unnatural. Becoming accustomed to a taboo was bound to have its negative side effects. "This time, we'll slow down."

Nodding in acceptance, Brick couldn't resist the urge to kiss the top of Blossom's head, as the watched the water rain in from the falls; the lake's surfaces was constantly moving and rippling. "Does that mean you're my girlfriend again?"

"Yeah," Blossom responded, learning that sometimes the best decision was indecision.

For the rest of the day, the two discussed boundaries and what it would mean to learn how to be a couple again—in between jumping off the waterfall.

 _Well, we rushed it_

 _Moving way too fast_

 _That we crushed it_

 _But it's in the past_

 _We can make this lip_

 _Through the curtains of the waterfall_


	33. Oh, Skip to the Ending

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me?**

 **Author's Note: So, how is everyone enjoying the PPG reboot? Personally, I'm enjoying it, but not as much as the original. The quality of the animation is superb, but the voices of the girls are so distracting.**

 **Author's Note # 2: "Give Him Up" by Faber Drive**

* * *

 _They say come what may_

 _But I can't seem to get you off my mind_

 _They say come what may_

 _But I can't let you fall for every line_

 _They say come what may_

 _But I can't watch while you forgive him_

Fuckin' A.

Why did this have to happen to him?

Why did it have to be _her_?

It wasn't fair. There was no doubt about it. Brick knew it for sure. After a whole month of splashing around in the Nile River, he needed to accept what was going on. He was in love with Blossom. Over the moon, head over heels, absolutely, beyond the shadow of a doubt, downright, bonkers, crazy in love with the girl. He was in love with his best friend's girlfriend. God dang it. Brick couldn't even fall in love the right way. And what the fuck was he supposed to do about it? Blossom was in love with Richard, that much was obvious.

"I just miss him," Blossom confessed nervously, sitting down on the couch with Brick. A sad shade of pink colored in the whites of Blossom's pretty eyes, even as a strangled smile was perched upon her lips. "I'm happy for Richie and that he's made good friends at work. But I miss him. I miss us."

Personally, Brick was of the opinion that his good buddy was behaving like a dick, going out with his new work friends almost every night and ignoring his girlfriend, the rat bastard. "It's just all new for him still. Richard will come to his senses one of these days."

The truth is that Brick had no intention of feeding Blossom's mind with senseless doubt, or steal her away. Richard made Blossom happy (most of the time), and that's exactly how Brick loved her—when she was happy.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm just worried that Richie is falling out love with me," Blossom murmured, shrugging sorrowfully and shook her head at herself.

That was impossible. "Trust me, that is not something you have to worry about."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because he never shuts up about you," Brick replied, unable to keep the bitter taste of that sweet fact off his tongue. "Richard goes on and on about you all the time. It's enough to make me want to vomit."

With an incredulous expression adorned upon her face, Blossom tucked several golden-chestnut strands of hair behind the shell of her ear. "If only that were the case... With the way he treats me now, I've started to believe that he must be ashamed of me for some reason.

Instinctively, Brick snorted, "That's stupid. Whatever his problem is, there's no way it has anything to do with how he feels about you."

It was a little, tiny transformation of her face, almost microscopic, but finally, for the first time in a few weeks, a genuine smile formed on Blossom's bow-shaped lips. "Thank you for canceling your date just to cheer me up, Brick. You're a really good friend."

Wait. Hold the phone. He had a date tonight? Oh! Yeah... Fuck.

The moment Brick saw Blossom sniffling on the living room couch all by herself, awaiting Richard's delayed return home, he had forgotten all about his date with what's-her-face. Shit. He made a mental note to text her later and apologize.

"Don't mention it," Brick chuckled, the sound somewhat strained. The phrase 'really good friend' deflated him.

"I mean it, Brick," Blossom continued, neglecting his request to not mention it. "I truly enjoy spending time with you. I just wish it were under more favorable circumstances."

As a light bulb switched on his head, he peeled off the signature baseball cap from his head, combed his thick, long digits through his deeper ginger locks, and then put back on his hat. "Heh. How about we go see a movie then? We can get your mind off some stuff."

Immediately, Blossom's beautiful smile broadened, lighting up her face, which made Brick feel kind of funny, as if someone had pumped fresh air into his lungs. "What a marvelous idea! Seeing a movie with you might really help my mood!"

. . .

Well, it wasn't like it was a proper date or anything. A pair of friends, which simply happened to consist of one, lovesick Romeo-wanna and one girl who was none the wiser, could go out and see a movie together, right? There was no weirdness, no expectations. Just friends watching a film. Innocent.

Now, granted, the only good film playing worth paying for happened to be a romantic drama, with tidbits of nudity scattered throughout the two-hour and thirty-minute duration. Every so often, the male half of the duo would uncomfortably squirm in his seat, envisioning Blossom and himself acting out those love scenes—such as claiming her body from behind as she bent over the kitchen sink, screaming at the top of her lungs every time his cockhead reached her womb. Thankfully, Blossom seemed ignorant of Brick's raunchy fantasies, but that was mainly because she was blissfully asleep. Her head rested on his shoulder, the fragrance of her strawberries and crème shampoo radiating from her scalp, which served to entice poor Brick all the more; he could even smell Blossom's hair in his lecherous daydreams, where he could pretend that her heart and body belonged to him, not Richard.

After the film finally finished, Blossom and Brick went out for ice cream.

"Yummm," Blossom hummed, taking her first lick of the chocolate and vanilla swirl ice cream cone. "Delicious."

"Thanks for paying," Brick said, biting into the mint chocolate chip creamy goodness.

"It was the least I could do after you paid for the movie. Sorry for sleeping on you, by the way."

"At least you didn't drool on me."

The two, young college seniors walked around the Townsville Park, taking in the fresh, cool midnight air. Although Brick's hands were occupied with a sweet treat, he was tempted to hold Blossom's hand. Oh, well. He could could settle for this—slowly strolling through the tranquil quiet of the park, the only thing interrupting the silence was their voices.

"I know that I've already said this, but you're a really good friend," Blossom murmured breathily, the dimly lit atmosphere able to conceal the strawberry tinge of her flushed cheeks. "I wish we could have gotten closer sooner."

In the silence of his sacred thoughts, Brick agreeably echoed Blossom's statement—if only they had met before Richard came into her life and swept her off her feet. "Why's that?"

"No reason in particular," Blossom answered, casting her doe-eyed gaze up to the thumbnail-shaped, alabaster moon, the breeze flowing through her coppery strains of hair. "I just think... I feel it would have been better that way. I can't explain it."

. . .

"Bro, you look like shit," Boomer, one of Brick's two younger brothers, said with an obnoxious sounding sneer.

"Thanks," Brick retorted sarcastically, a deadpanned expression written on the contours of his face.

To be honest, he also felt like shit, but he didn't need anyone pointing it out. Besides, it was his night out with the boys, which usually consisted of bar-hopping, getting shit-faced, petty one night stands, and massive morning after hangovers. Brick was supposed to be in high spirits like his carefree brothers, but he wasn't, no matter how many beers he consumed. No amount of mind-numbing alcohol could make Brick forget about Blossom.

He couldn't believe it; after all this time, he was still pining over his best friend's girlfriend. Even worse than that, he was worried about Blossom. Things between her and Richard began to improve; he doted upon her with all sorts of shallow presents to make up for the time they couldn't spend together. Prince Charming's gifts satisfied Blossom for a short while, but she wasn't the materialistic type, so Richard couldn't keep buying her things forever to make up for his negligence. It seemed that any step forward Blossom and Richard made as a couple, the latter took three steps back.

Still, Blossom was hopeful and patient with Richard's antics.

"What's eating you, man? Is this about that Blossom chick?" Butch inquired with a disgusting sneer, gesturing at the bartender to bring the male trio several shots of tequila.

"Are you kidding me?" Brick snorted, slightly wrinkling his nose. "I just had a bad day. That's all. Don't worry about it."

"Well, fucking cheer up already," Butch said, rolling his mint-green eyes. "No one needs a bummer like you hanging around."

Scoffing under his breath, Brick sat down on one of the bar stools and took a handful of pretzels into his mouth. "Fuck you."

"Both of you need to stop acting like a bunch of pmsing women," Boomer commented, his tone sour and snide. "You bunch of idiots."

"Shut up, Boomer!" both Brick and Butch bellowed, lightly punching their younger brother in either arm. The cocky, little shit.

"Whatever," Butch continued, ignoring Boomer's annoying groans of pain. He passed a shot of tequila to Brick, as well as put one in his own hand. "Let's just drink and have a good time, alright?"

"Fine," Brick agreed hesitantly.

"Cheers?" Butch requested, raising his shot glass.

"Cheers!" Boomer shouted, following his brother's example. They both looked at Brick expectantly, who then puffed out a breath and rolled his eyes.

"Sure, sure. Cheers. Whatever," he grumbled, clinking his glass to theirs, and then swallowed the burning liquid down his throat.

"Great. Now, I'm gonna go find me a freaky chick," Butch announced, hastily removing himself from the small group.

Once Brick's green-clad sibling was out of the way, no longer obscuring his vision, a great sensation of nausea crashed over him, and the shots of tequila could not be blamed. The color of Brick's complexion was drained, his expression becoming pale when he registered just what he was looking at. A mere, few feet away from him was Richard, sitting on a bar stool and having the time of his life. There was a scantily-dressed woman straddling Richard's lap, shamelessly grinding herself over his blatant erection, while his tongue was practically shoved down the stranger's throat. Both people were getting their jollies off in the middle of some seedy bar, not caring even the slightest bit who was watching. Brick simply studied the grotesque couple, stunned how they displayed not a single ounce of shame—how Richard was not the least bit concerned that Blossom was being strung along without a fucking clue.

What the fuck?

"Are you okay, bro? You don't look so hot," Boomer verbally observed, placing his hand on Brick's shoulder, perhaps to keep him balanced.

"Yeah, I'm fine." His scarlet eyes darkened to burgundy and solidified, bearing the precarious nature of a demonic fury. Brick could no longer control his actions, now possessed by a vindictive, protective rage. He stood up and strode over to Richard and his playmate, grabbing the latter by the arm. "Get the fuck out of my way!"

"Huh? What?" she gasped, practically ragdolled to the side.

"Brick?!" Richard yelped like a little bitch, horrified. "What are you doing here?"

Again, what the fuck? "You're partying it up at some seedy, rank club while your girlfriend bawls her eyes out and you're fucking asking me what I'm doing here?" Brick emitted a threatening, incredulous chortle, almost entertained by the bastard's nerve, the stupid son of a bitch. "Fucking dick!" And then, Brick punched Prince Charming square in the kisser.

. . .

Three months had passed since Blossom broke up with Prince Charming, though the latter half incessantly promised he was a changed man—losing the best woman in his life taught him how much of an idiot he had been. That much was probably true, that taking Blossom for granted, cheating on her with one of his co-workers, and then losing her as a result finally made the poor fool realize his mistakes.

Well, it was far too late for Richard and Blossom to make amends and rekindle the sparks of their broken romance, because she had moved on, and Brick finally got the girl.

"When did you fall in love with me?" Brick asked out of the blue, as he and his girlfriend strolled around the park at night. This time, they were holding hands.

"About a month ago, I realized it, but I can't recall a specific moment. I think my heart was breaking long before you told me the truth about Richard... I felt hopeless and sad all the time," she elucidated—her story sounded rather tragic, but her mouth carried a brilliant smile. "Except whenever you were around."

"Me?" he questioned, puzzled by her statement.

"You," Blossom confirmed. She stopped short and stood in front of him, bringing Brick's warm hands to her face. "You kept all the pieces of me from falling apart."

Brick and Blossom stepped closer to one another and shared a sweet kiss under the moon's creamy light. What one man treated like trash was another man's treasure, and Brick promised to always keep Blossom's heart together.

 _This is the game that plays away_

 _He's gonna cheat_

 _Night after night_

 _Another girl, another drink_

 _She doesn't see that she should be with me_

 _She's gotta give him up_

 _G-G-Give him up_


	34. Who'd Like to Know?

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.**

 **Author's Note: Alright, this one-shot is not in any way a fluff piece, nor does it center around any good aspect of the Bl/Br ship. It's just a drabble pieces that focuses on the darker, far more sinister aspect that is naturally tagged along of this pairing. So, there is a bit of graphicness involved. Not too much, but just be aware that this is not going to be cutesy at all.**

 **Author's Note # 2: "You Make Me Sick," by Egyptian Central.**

* * *

 _I have to take advantage_

 _Before the moment passes by_

 _It's so hard to manage_

 _The ups and downs of your life_

 _Someone help_

 _Someone speak_

 _Before I start to scream out_

 _Anything to break the silence_

 _You're holding me back_

 _Confined by doubt_

Blossom Utonium. A Powerpuff Girl. His rival. The enemy. The bane of his existence. A benevolent foe that needed to be squashed like a bothersome insect or completely deleted from reality altogether. Yet, no matter how many attempts were made to rid her from this world, she always came out on top, ever the victor. Brick Jojo, the pink Powerpuff Girl's malicious counterpart, was positively disgusted by the very sound of the girl's name, as a news anchor praised his nemesis for yet another successful day of crime-fighting. He watched the broadcast in the seclusion of his bedroom, his flesh sweating from the intense, scorching heat of his own fury.

"Was there every a point where you earnestly considered that you might not win this time?" the television reporter inquired, shoving a microphone in Blossom's hideously sweet face.

"Not really," she answered, releasing the slightest ring of laughter. Such arrogance. "I always have my sisters to back me up. I'm confident that there is nothing we can't overcome just as long as we stick together. Teamwork is the key to our success."

Fucking hell. Blossom's string of statements were boiling over with sugary sweetness—the little, naive goody two-shoes would preach such an afterschool-special sentiment. Brick believed that he might upchuck his dinner, if not all the previous meals he had consumed that day. If only he could cut out her tongue with a pair of meat-sheers to keep her from speaking such nonsensical drivel ever again; that would be a blessid miracle. Jesus. It would have been even better if he could grab Blossom's scrawny neck between his hands and severe the muscles like twigs—the sound of her piggish squealing and her neck finally snapping in half would been euphoric to his ears.

"No one messes with the Powerpuff Girls and gets away with it!" Blossom boasted brightly. She looked directly into the camera's lens, a proud smile adorned upon her maraschino-cherry lips, and gave all of Townsville a friendly wink. The show-off.

Everything Blossom did served only to repulse Brick further, and yet he found himself rewinding the interview over and over again to listen to the melodic vibrations in her voice, to again observe the bewitching curve of her lips.

Brick's obsession for Blossom was sick—violent and all-consuming. Fantasies swam through his head, one where the red Rowdyruff Boy made his enemy scream out his name in ecstasy just as he dug a switchblade deep into her abdomen, piercing Blossom's flesh simply to feel her warm, metallic-scented blood seep between his long fingers. Blossom's body could writhe beneath him, howling in pain as he twisted the knife through her organs like a fork collecting spaghetti noodles. Inside his mind was a dark and arduous place, the only safe place in which he could let his dreams about Blossom run chaotically, no matter how psychotic.

For Brick, it was a game—a trick of the mind. He could satiate his lust for Blossom, while finally doing away with her bothersome existence once and for all; he could take care of Blossom, both literally and figuaritively. Wouldn't that be nice? How Brick yearned to feel the flower petal-like softness of her smooth, peach skin; how he longed to have the sweet taste of her mouth fill his own; how he needed to drain the pure, precious light from Blossom's eyes, the same pair of eyes that set his bloodstream ablaze with an all too simplistic glance in his direction. Brick wanted to love Blossom, yet, he wanted to also harm her in ways no one else conceived. He was sick, a fact in which he was not ashamed, but concerned. Killing Blossom—ending her pitiful life—would not be a dilemma for him, nor did the notion give him pause, but loving her... T

he imagery of his hand caressing Blossom's flushed cheeks was grotesque, yet he enticed all at once. Love. He wanted to hold the girl close to him, kiss her underneath the velvet blanket of the night sky, and whisper Shakespearean sonnets in her ear.

Yet still, Brick craved her demise; he wanted to crush in the amethyst abyss of his gaping soul—make Blossom feel his love, and then leave her with a black void in her chest that would eat her from the inside out. Brick would punish the puny heroine for making his emotions ran rapid, complicating the ideal hatred, one that was divine and pure like steel, with love.

Love was the worst battlefield of all, the best blood sport fathomable, but the leader of the Rowdyruff Boys was on the opposite team. Hate needed to be the winner of this pretend game.

. . .

There was one thing that Brick could not deny out loud, nor in the privacy of random musings; Blossom was lovely. The way she moved, with such impeccably agility and style, tempted him, yet also aggravated him to no end. Oh, how the dangerous teenager could have simply snatched the girl into his arms and have her long legs encircled his hips as he held her against the alleyway wall, then he would break her bones—crush them into a pile of dust, uselessly sitting inside of her body.

 _Blossom_ , he murmured to himself, the flavors of her name somewhat sour and slightly sweet.

Slowly, the commander of the Powerpuff Girls came into view, walking down a nearly vacant pathway, passed building and hot dog stands, while Brick waited for the goddess in red stilletos to reach him. Any second now... Brick pressed the fingertip of his index finger against the shining, silver edge of his weapon of choice, a switchblade. A nefarious smile began to curve across his lips, pride and adrenaline swelling within his chest. And then, finally, the impulsive Rowdyruff Boy lunged at his counterpart and grabbed her by the arm, pushing her against the alley's wall, as he had dreamed of so many times before.

"Blossom," Brick spoke her name like a litany, as though a zealot to his idol, while he pressed the clean blade against her pretty throat, the skin just begging to be kissed. "How does it feel to know you'll die like a gutter whore?"

"I'll let you know if it ever becomes a reality," Blossom replied spiritedly. She knocked her forehead into his, causing him to stumble back. "What are you doing, Brick? Where are your brothers? You're usually smarter than this." But Blossom didn't understand. She could never understand how obsession reduced Brick's clever and conniving mind to a puddle of impulsive emotions, how it turned him into a creature of passionate action, without regard for sense and reason.

"I want to get you out of my head," Brick growled huskily, and gripped the knife harder, his knuckles turning chalk-white.

Bewildered, Blossom questioned him in a breathy tone, "What? What do you mean? I don't understand."

"And that," the young rebel of rebels spat, his voice overflowing with venom, "is what makes me want to kill you." Because the obsession was not requited. It actually hurt him to know that she could never want him in any way. He was the one caught in between the shadows of her heart, looming inside his unappreciated feelings like a perverted stalker.

So, he jumped at her again, and the struggle began.

Blossom and Brick fought each other with every ounce of their inhuman strength; although, one relied on his brute ability while the other depended on her wits and bodily strength. Brick twisted back Blossom's arm, pulling it in a three hundred sixty degree angle, but his strategic counterpart swiftly kicked Brick in the stomach, using his strength against him to land his fist right back in the face. Neither would easily back down. Grabbing her by the shoulders, the Rowdyruff slammed her into the concrete ground, then straddled her hips. He yanked at her top, forcing Blossom to sit up beneath him. Acting on instinct, Blossom's legs wrapped his knees, yet all other thoughts seemed to pause.

Brick's demon-colored eyes stared into Blossom's fearful, pink-rose ones, his rage briefly hushed by the powerful gravity of that bow-shaped mouth, and then pulled her in closer. She merely gazed back at him like a deer caught in the headlights, as though a kiss was far worse than death; he hoped so. Perhaps then the girl would comprehend the sheer power of obsession; maybe she would become a puppet of her own secret desires, and constantly thirst to quench them.

The pink Powerpuff Girl's complexion went pale as their lips neared, feeling Brick's warm breath roll against her lips. Thankfully, her brain soon saved her, her legs encasing Brick's hips tighter, and roll him onto his back.

"Nice try," Blossom sneered in disgust. "Is this yours?" She taunted him, waving around his nifty, little weapon.

After the initial shock wore off—after being so damn close—Brick was outraged by Blossom's lethal teasing. He tried to grab at the knife. "Give it ba-"

"I don't think so!" Blossom shouted, nicking the lowlife thug's left cheek with the jagged edge, where his skin would soon scar. "Let that be a warning to you, Brick. Should you ever consider attacking me again, don't." And yet, even while gloating in her moment of victory, Blossom was careless; Brick could still poison her.

Catching the fight's champion off-guard, Brick, again, fisted the girl's t-shirt and pulled her down to him, giving her no time to react. His lips melted against hers, drinking in the taste scent of her strawberry lipgloss, while both of his hands raveled through Blossom's tangerine hair. At first, she was steady, her mouth unmoving, even as Brick assaulted her with kisses over and over again. But then, her mouth finally gave in to arousal—relaxing against his, and began to participate. Her lips opened, her tongue drawing in her opposition's, both pieces of pink flesh massaging one another.

At the sweet sound of Blossom's mewl, the ringing needy and desperate, Brick knew that he succeeded in corrupting her body and mind—breathing his obsession into her very soul.

 _You make me sick_

 _But I love what we're doing here_

 _You make me sick_

 _And I can't be the only one_


	35. I'd Like to Know

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. Nothing...**

 **Author's Note: "Tomorrow" by Daughter.**

* * *

 _By tomorrow_

 _I'll be left in the darkness_

 _Amongst your cold sheets_

 _And your shoes will be gone_

 _And your body warmth no longer beside me_

 _But don't bring tomorrow_

 _'Cause I already know that I'll lose you_

In the beginning, his resolve to remain composed was unshakable. He simply could not afford to show any signs of frailty or weakness, though he was constantly told that it was okay to cry, but Brick was not so sure that was the case. Of course, the widower wanted to let go—to not hold on to any particles of courage—but he feared more than anything that he would not be able stop himself once the world caught even a glimpse of his crushed heart. What he needed to do was maintain a brave expression, though that probably meant coming off as cold and distant; his body felt cold. It was all he could do not to fall away into oblivion.

And so, Brick Jojo sat in silence as the preacher man spoke softly to the funeral party, reciting scriptures and inviting his wife's family members to announce their teary-eyed eulogies. To be honest, Brick wasn't paying too much attention to the events—to the funeral, to the burial, and to the reception; he was aimlessly wandering around in his own mind, sitting alone in a corner by himself. It was like he had been lobotomized, as his burgundy-wine eyes stared blankly ahead at the group of people dabbing their tears away, munching on finger sandwiches, and spoke of Blossom in sobbing whispers. To hear her name, to listen to it being uttered in past-tense, shattered Brick on the inside, but he kept up his statuesque front. He made a promise that he would; he wouldn't ever break his promise...

"Brick..." a familiar voice whispered ever-so tenderly, its source speaking with love and compassion.

Maybe everything that happened before had been a bad dream, after all. A sharp breath hitched in the back of his throat as hope swelled within his chest. He slowly turned around in his seat to look at her beautiful face. It _was_ her. Brick gazed at Blossom for the longest time, wondering how she could possibly be here. God, Blossom was so beautiful, even when she wore nothing but black.

"Bloss-" But then, as realization dawned on him, Brick remembered how cruel reality could be. "Berserk... Sorry. I thought you were...someone else."

Berserk frowned sympathetically as she rested a hand on the former Rowdyruff Boy's shoulder, weighing him down even more when all of the earth was already heavy on him. "It's gonna be okay."

How awful it was to have his heart pumped full of hope, to deceive himself into believing the impossible, no matter how momentary, that miracles could happen; and then to have it all dashed away—to be left with despair, because Blossom, his wife, would never again offer him comfort, nor speak to him. She was dead; buried; gone. How could Brick accept that? What was he supposed to do?

And just like that, his sanity slowly plucked away like severed guitar strings. No. It wouldn't be okay. Why did everyone continue to insist that everything would be okay? They were all wrong.

"No..." Brick murmured hoarsely, while a strained smile deflated from his face. "It's gonna be hell from now on."

. . .

Not all monsters were the size of a building, had claws instead of hands, or looked hideous. Some monsters were perfectly human. Some humans didn't deserve protection. Some humans, falsely claiming to be innocent, were nothing but traitors, who deserved to burn in the bowels of Hell.

It was just a normal day for Blossom, who was busily trying to maintain a hostage situation in the Townsville Bank. She was talking down the perpetrator, attempting to convince the desperate, homeless father of five to release his captives and relinquish his gun. Everything appeared to be going well, even when Brick arrived at the scene.

"Who's he?" the shaking man demanded, pointing the weapon in Brick's direction.

"Take it easy," Blossom said coolly, taking a timid step between her husband and the potential thief. "He's just hear to escort the children out. You don't want to harm innocent children, do you?"

"Of course not," the almost bank robber retorted, lowering the rifle.

"Okay." Brick instructed for the children to line up behind them, and then carefully walked them outside. He then went back inside for the women.

"No! They stay!" the ski-masked man ordered angrily.

"Why?" Blossom questioned, seeking out his rationality.

"I need everyone here!" He waved about the gun like a rogue animal, not caring who was in his path.

"Sir, you need to calm down... These are all innocent people," Blossom told him, exchanging a nervous glance with Brick.

"No one's innocent! Everyone here has either lied, cheated, and stolen from each other! No one cares!" he declared, getting ready to fire the gun.

Instead of moving to shield the huddled citizens, who all couldn't get out of the damn way to save their fucking lives, Brick should have shielded Blossom. But he didn't. Blossom moved to retrieve the gun, but the gunman was just as swift. A loud pierced through the air as Brick turned to see what happened. The perpetrator fell backward, limp, like a sack of potatoes.

"Blossom, did you..." Feeling his blood run cold, Brick trailed off, as Blossom turned to face him, an expression of sheer mortification on her face.

"Br-Bri... Brick..." she stammered, her hands clutching the left side of her chest, exactly where her heart was; her fingers were stained in red.

"Blossom!" He rushed forward, catching his wife in his trembling arms, all of her balance lost as blood poured profusely from her chest, several vital arteries destroyed.

"My chest... It hurts, Brick. I feel cold."

"It's okay, baby. I'm here," Brick panted, his heart frantic with pure worry, even as streaks of metallic-scented blood ran down from the right-hand corner of Blossom's mouth. He cradled her head close to his chest, her body limp in his arms—quickly being drained of life.

"I love you," Blossom coughed, tenderly stroking his cheeks—feeling the warmth of his face as a stream of tears rolled from his lower eyelashes. "Don't feel sad for me, okay? I don't want that to be the last thing I see." Her thumbs ghosted across the apples of her husband's cheeks.

"What do you mean?" Was she trying to sad goodbye to him? "You're going to be fine. You just have to hold on. Hold on to me, baby." Brick's voice trembled vehemently, in spite of the way the peach vibrant peach color of her complexion changed to porcelain. She couldn't just bail on him.

"Brick, I can't..." Blossom expelled one, final breath, all signs of life abandoning her body.

The gentility of her hand left Brick's burning cheeks; her head falling against his chest, pressed close to his splintered heart. "Blossom!" he shouted, repeatedly shaking her in his arms as though she could wake up still. "Don't you give up on me! Come on, Blossom! Don't give up on me! Come back! Please, come back! Blossom! I need you!" Try as he might, every effort he made to revive Blossom was pointless in the end. All of his prayers went unanswered. "I love you, too..."

. . .

The threads of Brick's insanity had unraveled entirely. He went on a rampage through his home, destroying everything in sight—he chucked glass at paintings, slammed wooden chairs against the walls, tore the curtains into tattered, shoved pictures of happier times off shelves, and utilized his violent abilities to bring the house's interior to ruin.

Nothing escaped unscathed. It only took Brick one, measly hour to break everything; all he could do was stand amongst the wreckage and attempt to come to grips with the fact that it had only been a few days since Blossom's death—a full week had yet to pass, but it felt like a hellish eternity. He still had the rest of his life to get through.

With his tired back against the wall, Brick slid down and sat quietly.

"Blossom," the widower wept, his knees bent against his chest, and his fingers tangled through his tangerine and golden colored hair. "Why did it have to be you? It should have been me..." Brick cried, feeling his stomach churn as he sobbed and wheezed like a sick child. And he could not stop himself, though Brick knew it would disappoint Blossom if she could truly see him now and how he brought their beloved home to shambles.


	36. Author of the Moment

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.**

 **Author's Note: Alright, so this is the last chapter for now. You all have been very sweet, so I've decided to leave you with something sour. Enjoy! And thank you all so much reading and reviewing these past couple of chapters!**

 **Author's Note: "Begin Again" by Purity Ring.**

* * *

 _I've been watching your kindness keep_

 _A lonely company_

 _Look at the fire and think of me_

 _I've been watching you creep_

 _Around my wandering feet_

 _Trying for years to flee_

There was no taste sweeter than liberation—absolute freedom to complete one's will, to release mundane things such as inhibitions or morals. As the days passed, this idea—the taste—grew louder inside her head, even more delicious upon her tongue; being bad suited her, the former Powerpuff Girl. Finally, now that the civilized world turned its back on her, Blossom was free to do whatever she pleased, without regard for moral judgment. And Brick was always the one to please her, immeasurably so. Oh, he was the incarnation of sweet, sensational, seductive liberty. Being around him was like inhaling fresh air after serving a life sentence in prison. She could be herself around Brick; she never had to sacrifice her rage or suppress her desires. All of it enthused the commander of the Rowdyruff Boys; all of Blossom—her passion, her ire, her thrills, her flaws, her raw thunder of emotions—aroused Brick.

"I had no idea you enjoyed this kind of thing," the young man teased, as a wolfish grin play at the left-hand corner of his mouth.

"It's my first time every doing something like this," Blossom informed him, her voice trembling—an onslaught of nerves wracked through her vocal chords.

"When did you have it installed?" Brick inquired curiously, all too intrigued by the glimmering pole in his lover's room. "I thought I would have noticed it by now."

"Doubtful," the Rowdyruff Girl commented nonchalantly, indicating toward Brick to seat himself upon the desk chair a few feet in front of her bed. "I spend more nights in your room than you do in mine. Those types of circumstances allowed me to create a perfect surprise for you."

Stroking the auburn stubble upon his chin, Brick nodded. "You're such a clever, pretty, little flower, Blossom. Part of me still can't believe you turned out to be such a slut."

If anyone apart from Brick had called her such an insulting word, Blossom would have slapped them. But as the word fell from his mouth, uttered with such invigorating vulgarity and pride, Blossom did not feel demeaned. The title, instead, gave her courage and reminded her that, in this corner of the world, up was down and bad was good. Slut was a compliment, a pet name—a word to inspire and boost Blossom's budding self-empowerment.

Besides, she enjoyed dirty talk.

"My slut," Brick snarled hungrily, licking his lips like a mountain lion stalking its willing prey.

"You are going to have to cease with that sort of talk, Brick," she warned, already feeling moisture threatening to soak through her underwear. She needed to get this situation out of his control and back under hers.

"Why?" he asked mischievously, the tone of his voice leaking with soft raspiness; he knew exactly what he was doing to her—he was much too aware of the influence he exerted over her body.

"Because then we're going to skip the good part," she answered slowly, her fingers deliberately fiddling with the tight knot keeping her silken, black robe strung together, as a hair-tie neatly kept her copper locks hair on her head.

"I'm pretty sure we'd be skipping to the good part," the dastardly scoundrel retorted, casting a devilish wink in her direction.

Arching an indulgent eyebrow, Blossom gave him a strawberry-lipped, sultry smirk in return. "I didn't know you were so opposed to being seduced.

"I'm not," Brick mumbled, distracted by the shimmering, thoughtful curve of her lips.

"Don't you want me to dance for you, Brick?" Blossom teased him, jutting out her bottom lip in a playful pout as she traced a finger over her stereo's play button.

Without barely putting forth any effort, Brick was wrapped around her little finger. "God, yes. Dance for me, baby... Please?"

"As you wish..."

Pressing down on the play button, the prelude to orgasm began.

Before anything, Blossom untied the knot of the robe and slide the sleeves off her arms, letting the soft material drop to the floor. Then, the pretend-pole dancer stood before Brick in a black-and-red checkered button-up plaid tee shirt—his shirt, though the thick fabric was entirely unsealed, to show of the rose-colored corset around her upper torso; the deep-chested fibers accentuated the roundness of her breasts, and was cut off as the mid-drift. Upon her upper legs and around her hips was a denim skirt, barely able to conceal the white and pink lace panties underneath. And of course, no stripper ensemble was complete without the right pair of shoes—four-inch, black stilettos.

"You sure do know how to dress," Brick muttered, his gaze thirstily drinking in her image.

"Impressed, are you?" Blossom queried, her demeanor knowing.

"Thoroughly," he responded, his strong fingers biting into the arms of his chair and peeled back little fibers of wood.

"Just you wait," Blossom said, gripping the pole. "I am going to give you a show that will be ingrained to your memory forever."

Swaying her hips to the beat of the song, Blossom grabbed a hold of the cold pole and started her dance for Brick. She slide the front of her body down the metal, her loose waves of copper tendrils softly whipping around her shoulders, until the hair-tie lost all its elasticity. As her unmanaged hair fell freely around her head, Blossom fluidly umped and clasped her thighs around the stripper pole, angling herself so that she hung upside down, and swirled around—a popular move she had rehearsed meticulously. But it was vital for Blossom not to appear to well-practiced, otherwise the spontaneity of the performance would dissipate—not that Brick would notice, but Blossom was a stickler for perfection, even as a Rowdyruff Girl.

Free. She needed to free herself from her moves and become lost in the music—listen to what her body wanted. And she did. Her muscles relaxed, the motions and movements of her body like liquid fire twirling around a center-point, like an enticing orbit.

The first item of clothing that Blossom decided to discard was Brick's plaid shirt, tossing it away, and somehow exposing even more cleavage—the peachy, pillow-like complexion of her chest whining to burst out of the corset upon Brick's inward command. Every fiber of the dancer's being yearned for him and she would soon have him, but there was foreplay that needed to be drawn out beforehand.

If only his silent beckoning wasn't as loud as a police car siren. If only she didn't want so much to answer his call like an obedient servant anticipating the soothing touch of her master's hand. Brick's eyes nefariousness shaded-in eyes, colored like the wicked grin of a demonic entity, gazed upon Blossom—fascinated by the winding of her slender, long legs around the pole, fixated on the slight bounce of the tops of her bountiful globes. The intense heat of the Rowdyruff's observation made her skin glow, a fruity pink spreading over her exposed areas; the amber flecks of his maroon uses crackled and shined like Greek fire, the liquid texture scorching the very nature of Blossom's soul.

His need permeated throughout the tight air, his passion palpable as Blossom danced. Brick's fingernails peeled back more splits of wood as his knuckles grew chalk-white. There was a very noticeable bulge within his trousers , the length tense against the strong zipper. Brick's eyes pleading, bt his lips did not beg, and Blossom would not relent her torture.

Discarding the skirt, the loosened material feel down her hips and passed hers, and landed with a murmured thud on the carpet floor.

"Fucking hell," Brick cursed under his breath, his eyesight teased and tempted by Blossom's panties—the tight fabric happily grabbing at her nether cheeks the way he wanted to so badly.

"You like?" Blossom questioned, yet to pause her movements—grinding her sacred center against the pole.

Nodding once, Brick's starving glare drifted down to Blossom's pussy. It was faint, little spot right in the center of her panties, but he could see the the wetness. Hell, he could even smell her arousal. "You look delicious, Blossom."

"I'm glad you think so," was her simple, nonchalant response.

"Do you think you could grant me one, teensy-weensy, little favor?" he asked, his tone dripped with wicked desire. His pupils were dilated, the onyx color blending in with the wine-red.

"What is the favor?" Blossom's inner body shook—her inner walls leaking with juicy, plentiful arousal.

"How about you dance on me instead of that pole?" Brick suggested. With a crooked grin plastered to his face, its existence full of lust and mischief, he gestured Blossom to him by hooking his index finger in a come-hither motion. "I would much rather be used."

"And use you, I shall indeed." Blossom obliged his wife, sauntering over to Brick and around his chair, so that she stood right behind him. "Is that what you wanted?"

No. It was not quite what he asked for, and she already knew that. Yet Brick did not reply as he leaned his neck backward. Blossom's panty-covered cunt hover just about his mouth. His tongue attempted to swipe over the damper material of her underwear, bit did not have a long enough; he could almost taste her wet flesh.

"Please," he beseeched, his cock strained against his pants.

"Not just yet," Blossom whispered, walking in front of him. She straddled his lap, grinding her hips against his stomach—her clit engorged. "I want you to enjoy me like this a little while longer.

Hissing, the aroused prey dug his fingers deep into the supple skin of his girlfriend's ass and worship-fully suckled on the lightly tanned orbs upon her chest—licking and biting them as the song played on loop. Their sexes rocked together in a sensational rhythm, with Brick's face buried betwixt Blossom's cleavage, the former's mouth expelling animalistic growls—creating delicious vibrations against her sensitive skin. How could anything feel better than this? His hot mouth was attentive—so sweet. Blossom was barely keeping herself held together as Brick met her gyrations second-per-second—his solidified member slithering against her clit; she was helpless atop him.

She could have just melted right then. "Oh, Brick..." she whimpered beneath her trembling sigh. "You're not being fair."

He groaned against her chest, agitated slightly. "But I want you so much, baby. Let me have you, Blossom."

"No," Blossom decided firmly, unseating herself from hips lap. "Not yet. This is my game, is it not? I want to win."

"I forfeit to you!" he exclaimed, his voice seething with desperation. His hands reached to Blossom's hips and yanked her center in dangerously close to his face.

"I won't let you just give up, Brick..." Her inner walls contracted once, the temptation to give in strong. She could feel his warm breath against her clitoris, as Brick pushed aside the crotch of her panties.

"Just a taste?" Brick begged quizzically, placing a soft kiss upon her vulva.

Arching a bemused brow, Blossom felt a shiver of intrigue rattle throughout her spinal chord. She had never seen Brick like this before, pouting and pleading. Perhaps she had already won the upper hand all along he belonged to her, in this moment, willing to follow her instructions om a exchange for a sample—a mere taste of her pussy. Knowing that her seduction technique worked better than she predicted it would—to know she could wield such incredible power over Brick—empowered Blossom; aroused her. Still, it could have been a simple, clever ruse on Brick's part, to tease her with pretend influence and force her to beg in the end. No. She couldn't risk that if she intended to be the victorious one this time.

"Just a taste," Blossom answered, hiking up one leg to rest limp around her shoulder.

Wasting no time at all, Brick took immediate advantage of the permission he had been granted. It was finally his turn to drive Blossom crazy. He pressed the length of his tongue against Blossom's clit, feeling it thump like the beat of a drum. Brick flicked his tongue up and down her bundle of tightly packed nerves, while his calloused fingertips ruthlessly dug into her ass cheeks, so he could lick her pussy even harder. Blossom's profuse juices were collected upon his taste buds with each, deliberate dive into her leaking entrance, the flavors of her sex like the gods' ambrosia or fruit nectar. Brick dragged his tongue up from the gateway into his lover's cunt, to the summit of her needy clit—her inner body tightened each time. He was bringing her closer and closer to tumbling off the edge of orgasm; he was desperate to feel her climax around his tongue.

"Alright," the Rowdyruff Giirl murmured in an even tone, withdrawing her pussy from his face. "Wasn't that awfully nice of me to compromise with you like that?" She giggled teasingly. "You almost made me cum, too."

"I need more." Brick meant his statement with every fiber of his being. His demon-colored eyes smoldered with hellfire-red as his gazed at her.

Blossom needed to tread carefully, seeing how Brick's desperation was beginning to sew the seeds that would lead him into a tempestuous crazy... But would that really be such a bad thing?

"Brick..." Blossom purred adoringly, and tenderly kissed him. "Do you want me reward you with a job well done?"

"What kind of reward?"

"Oh. It's one I suspect you'll immensely enjoy, my love." Kneeling down before him, Blossom began to undo his belt and pulled it down from the loops of his jeans, then slowly guided the zipper down. A sigh of relief emanated from Brick's chest as his cock finally gained some breathing room—free at last, when Blossom shook Brick's boxers down his legs. "Look at you." Blossom held the proud member firm in her right hand and gave the head a teasing squeeze, causing her love to groan out. "Oh, my. Did I hurt you?"

"N-N-No..." Judging from the blissful grin buttering his face, pain was not the feeling he experienced.

His dick flexed against Blossom's palm as she gave it another experimental pump. "I see. You like that. Well then, I am most certain you'll positively love what I'm about to do next."

"Blossom, I beg of you..." the red Rowdyruff Boy pleaded through gritted teeth.

Deciding not to prolong her boyfriend's pleasure any longer, Blossom swallowed Brick's cock down her gullet and earned yet another needle-sharp groan. His hips involuntarily bucked when his cockhead was squeezed around the strong, warm depths of her throat, as he slightly slipped down from his chair. Blossom bobbed her head up and down, repeatedly enveloping Brick's thick erection while her talented tongue traced the bottom side length. With each sweet, sensual caress of her ever-moving tongue against his thudding cock, Brick expelled quivering grunts—the muscles of his pelvis strained as he mentally commanded himself to keep still. But Blossom was too good—her tongue drawing random against the root of his dick, moving across his strangled veins as if they were harp strings. All the while, her hands gently massaged his testicles—dragging her thumb to and fro, right on the sweet spot. Precum slipped from the slit of his manhood, trickling onto Blossom's taste buds.

"Oh, fuck," Brick snarled, feeling a familiar pulsation begin tighten the nerves within his cock. "You have to fucking stop or I'm gonna-"

Hmm, Blossom knew all too well what Brick was about to do and she also knew that he wasn't quite willing to do it yet, but he was useless under her concentrated control. Luckily, Blossom was clever; and therefore, she was capable of delivering Brick to the stratosphere and back down to earth. She removed Brick's cock from her throat, and pumped it up and down in her hand at an angle—trying to be as precise as possible.

"Nnguhahaaa," the red Rowdyruff uttered breathlessly after waves of heavenly esthesis rolled over him, while Blossom worked her magic. The cockslit contracted over and over again, yet no liquid oozed; Brick was definitely experiencing an orgasm, yet he wasn't exactly cumming. It took him a full two minutes to come down from his high. "H-H-How...are you doing that?"

She giggled gently, amused by the baffled expression draped across his face. "Knowledge is power, Brick." Her hand was still traveling up and down the throbbing length of his still hard meat stick. "I need to keep you up and about."

Blossom stood up from the ground, her knees entirely hibiscus-pink, and sauntered over to the foot of the bed. She slightly bent over the edge and used her arms to maintain balance, as Brick obediently followed her lead, coming to stand right behind her.

"Does sucking me off make you wet?" Brick asked, inserting an index finger into Blossom's entrance. He slightly leaned over her back, sucking the back of her neck.

"This is my game, Brick," she warned him, arching her ass against his cock. "If you don't fuck me _now_ , I won't let you have me at all."

Chortling huskily against her soft skin, Brick granted her a final curl of his fingers—hooking it against Blossom's g-spot, eliciting a high-pitched squeal. "I love your game."

The inside of Blossom's stomach coiled while her spine shuddered when, at last, her pussy was filled, entirely plugged with Brick's manhood—delectable. He didn't move, giving her a swift second to adjust his endowed member, as her inner walls, slick with arousal, memorized the feeling of him inside bare, and pressed against every last crevice of her center. Completely of their own accord, Blossom's hips began to rock from underneath Brick's—slowly grinding their sexes together. The latter mimicked the pink Rowdyruff Girl's actions, though with a faster, sharper pace, and repeatedly slid himself in and out of her pussy.

Each thrust and slam of their bodies was met with passion and enthusiasm, while Brick's balls slapped and swung at just the right angle, against his lovely lover's thrumming clitoris. A purr reverberated through Blossom's vocal chords, feeling a sensation rhythm resonate throughout her dripping cunt. Brick groaned as well, the couple fucking each other into sweet, sweat-saturated oblivion. Blossom screamed, her boyfriend's hand gripping and massaging her nether cheeks—pulling them apart as his dick pumped her pussy full of wonderful, addictive vibrations. His hips pounded into hers, making the bed creak and the floor shake.

"Gaaahh! Fuck!" Blossom cursed as her long fingernails dug into the bed sheets and shredded them. She was seconds away from reaching climax. "Ugh, Brick!"

Brick responded with a loud growl, his swollen cock about to release a heavy load. Thankfully, he pulled out just in time and flipped Blossom onto her back. He sunk down to his knees and buried his face in her pussy, while his hand vigorously worked his aching manhood. Blossom and Brick came in the same second; her core contracted and spasmed around his tongue, while his hot shots of semen splattered on his stomach and yet, even while their minds spun, they were more energized and enthused by each others tingling, lingering orgasm.

"Again?" Brick questioned, sinking himself back into her womanhood.

"Again," Blossom nodded, her pants once again transforming into screams.

 _You be the moon_

 _I'll be the earth_

 _And when we burst_

 _Start over_

 _Oh, darling_

 _Begin again_

 _Begin again_

 _Begin again_


End file.
